Tiningnan ko ang sarili ko sa salamin. Naka polo ako, maong na pantalon at itim na sapatos. Hindi ako sigurado kung akma na ba ito para sa kasal pero ito na talaga ang pinaka-pormal na kaya ko. Kung bakit ba kasi tinanggap ko pa ang imbitasyon ni Papa, eh hindi ko naman halos kilala ang ikakasal. Pero eto na, wala na akong magagawa. Napabuntung-hininga na lang ako habang palabas ng kwarto.
“Ma, pwede na ba tong pang-kasal?” tanong ko kay Mama na noon ay nanonood ng TV. Lumingon siya sa akin at tiningnan ako mula ulo hanggang paa.
“Pwede na yan,” sabi ni Mama sabay balik sa panonood. “Ikumusta mo na lang ako kay Miss Foundation. Naku, sana makilala mo siya. Baka sobra-sobra nilagay niya ngayon kasi kasal niya,” pahabol niyang hirit. Miss Foundation ang tawag ni Mama kay Ate Jen. Ang kapal daw kasi palagi maglagay ng foundation.
“O, aalis ka na?” dinig kong sabi ng stepfather ko. Pumunta siya sa may aparador, kumuha ng barya at inabot ito sa akin. “Eto, bumili ka muna ng pan de sal para may pang-regalo ka naman.”
Tumawa ako at tinanggap ang barya. “Salamat sa pamasahe. Sige, alis na ako. Pupunta na ako sa sakayan,” sabi ko bago lumabas ng pintuan.
Naglakad ako palabas ng subdivision namin. Diretso ng dalawang kanto, kanan ng isang beses at kaliwa ng isang beses. Pagdating ko sa sakayan ng traysikel, nandoon na si Papa, naghihintay sa kotse niya. Nasa harap si Tita Nona, ang kanyang asawa. Ngumiti ako sa kanila at sumakay sa likod.
“Kanina pa po kayo?” tanong ko habang palabas kami ng paradahan.
“Mga five minutes pa lang,” nakangiting sagot ni Tita. “Kumusta ka na? Anong kurso ba kinukuha mo?”
“High school pa lang po ako Tita. Sa Davao po ako nag-aaral ngayon,” sagot ko.
“Pisay yan. Napakatalinong bata talaga. Manang mana sa akin,” nakangiting sabi ni Papa.
Naging tahimik ang sumunod na kalahating oras habang papunta sa reception ng kasal ni Ate Jen. Oo, sa reception na ako pumunta. Nakiusap kasi ako kay Papa na wag na akong pumunta sa mismong kasal. Hindi kako ako komportable. Ayaw niyang pumayag nung umpisa pero napilit ko din siya. “Basta dapat andun ka sa reception. Susunduin kita sa inyo,” sabi niya nung huli.
Sa isang private resort dinaos ang reception. Yun lang yata ang private resort sa lugar namin. Nasa paanan ng bundok, madaming puno, may swimming pool at may social hall kung saan nagaganap ang sosyalan. Lahat ata ng reception ng mga kasal sa amin, dun ginaganap.
Pagdating namin dun, dumiretso si Tita Nona sa pag-aasikaso sa mga bisita. Si Papa naman ay umalis ulit at may kailangan pa daw bilhin sa bayan. Naiwan ako sa may pintuan ng hall, palingun-lingon, nagbabakasakaling makakahanap ng kakilala.
Napansin kong magarbo pala ang ayos ng lugar. Madaming bulaklak na nakasabit sa kung saan saan. Sa bandang harap ay may dalawang magkatabing upuan na may kung anu-anong nakapalamuti. Sa magkabilang gilid naman nito ay may dalawang mahahabang mesa na may ilang patong yatang tablecloth na iba't-iba ang kulay. Di tulad ng maliliit na mesang nakakalat sa loob ng hall, ang mga mesang iyon ay may nakahain nang pagkain. Hula ko, para sa mga kamag-anak yun, isa sa lalaki at yung kabila sa babae. Ibig sabihin dun ako dapat umupo sa isa sa mga yun. Ang problema, wala akong namumukhaan sa mga nakaupo sa kahit aling mesa.
“Jason!” may narining akong tumawag sa likod ko. Lumingon ako at nakita si Cathy, isang dating kapitbahay, anak ng kumare ni Papa. Nakaupo siya sa may mesa malapit sa pintuan. Napangiti ako, buti may kakilala pala ako. Lumapit ako sa mesa nila ng mga kasama niya at nakiupo.
“Asan si Tita?” tanong ko kay Cathy pagkaupo ko.
“Nasa bahay, inaalagaan si Papa. Hina-high blood na naman kasi. Eh si Papa mo naman, asan?” tanong niya naman.
“May binili lang sa bayan. Pero pabalik na din yun,” sagot ko.
“Ayan na pala siya eh,” bilang sabi ni Cathy sabay turo sa pintuan. “Hinahanap ka yata niya. Tawagin mo.”
Palingun-lingon si Papa. Mukhang hinahanap nga ako. Sandali akong nag-isip bago ko siya tinawag. Baka kasi palipatin niya ako ng mesa.
“O Jason, bakit andito ka?” tanong niya sa akin pagkalapit. “Doon tayo sa mahabang mesa sa kaliwa.”
“Eh Pa, dito na lang ako. Ayokong umupo sa harap,” sagot ko. Pero umiling si Papa at hinila ako patayo. “Dun ang pamilya natin kaya dun ka,” pagpipilit niya.
Binati agad ako ng mga nakaupo doon pagdating ko. Kilala pala nila ako.
“Jason, hindi mo ba ako naaalala? Ako si Tita Nelia mo. Madalas kitang alagaan nung baby ka pa.”
Paano ko naman kaya maaalala yun?
“Jason, naaalala mo pa ba, magkalaro tayo palagi pag pumupunta ka sa bahay ni Tita Sora.”
Mga dalawang beses lang yata ako nakapunta sa bahay ni Tita Sora.
“Ako, malamang naaalala mo pa. Madalas tayong mamitas na aratiles dati sa likod ng bahay ng Papa mo.”
May aratiles pala sa bahay ni Papa?
Sunud-sunod ang mga tanong at kwento nila. At sunud-sunod din ang mga sagot kong “Ah oo nga”, “Parang naaalala ko nga yan” at “Opo, ako nga po yun”. Pero sa totoo, kahit anong subok kong tandaan ang mga kwento nila eh wala talaga akong maalala. Natigil na lang ang kwentuhan nung nagsimula nang kumain.
Pagkatapos ng kainan, dumiretso agad ako sa labas. Umiwas na ako, baka kasi kausapin na naman nila ako at mabisto na nilang hindi ko talaga sila maalala. Naglakad lakad ako sa may garden. May mga taong dun kumakain at meron ding mga nakatambay lang.
“Ah oo, yan yung anak ni Mario sa labas. Bakit andito yan?” narinig kong pabulong na sinabi ng isang babae pagkalampas ko sa grupo nila. Saglit akong napatigil bago ako naglakad ulit.
“Ano ka ba, narinig ka yata,” narinig kong sabi ng kasama niya habang papalayo ako. Parang tanga lang. Sa lakas ng bulong nung babae, lahat siguro ng tao dun sa garden eh nakarinig. Hindi ko alam kung nananadya ba o ano.
Nagpaikot-ikot pa ako sa garden ng mga kalahating oras hanggang sa sumakit na ang paa ko sa de-balat kong sapatos. Naghanap ako ng mauupuan kaso lahat ng mga mga silya ay may nakaupo na. No choice, kailangang bumalik sa loob.
Tinawag agad ako ni Papa pagkapasok ko. May kausap siyang babaeng may edad na. Tiningnan ako nung babae, at pagkatapos ay nakingiti niyang tinanong si Papa, “O, sino tong gwapong batang to?”
“Ito?” tanong ni Papa sabay akbay sa akin. “Bunso ko.”
Tumingin ang babae kay Papa at tumawa. Pero nung nakita niyang hindi tumawa si Papa, unti-unting nawala ang ngiti niya. “Seryoso? Mario, seryoso ka?”
“Pa, kakain muna ako ulit,” paalam ko. Narinig kong nag-uusap si Papa at ang babae nang mahina habang palayo ako. Pumunta ako sa mesa, kinuha ang plato ko at kumuha ng konting pansit. Pagkatapos ay binaba ko ang plato.
“Anak, pasensya ka na dun,” narinig ko ang boses ni Papa sa likod ko. Sumunod pala siya. Humarap ako sa kanya at nakangiting sumagot, “Ok lang yun pa. Wag mong isipin yun.”
“Hindi. Pasensya ka na talaga. Basta tatandaan mo-”
“Pa, ok lang,” mariin kong putol.
Natahimik si Papa. Pagkatapos ang ilang segundo, muli siyang nagsalita, “Pasensya ka na pala, ilang buwan na akong hindi nakakapagpadala sayo. Pinag-ipunan ko kasi tong kasal ng ate mo. Pakisabi din sa Mama mo, pasensya na.”
“Eh Pa, ikaw lang naman itong nagpipilit na magbigay eh. Ilang beses ka nang sinabihan ni Mama na wag nang magbigay pero tinutuloy mo pa din. Kaya naman kasi namin ni Mama.”
“Anak kita. May responsibilidad ako sayo,” sabi ni Papa. “At nakakahiya sa mama mo. Baka sabihin niya hindi kita kayang sustentuhan.”
“Nagpapakitang-gilas ka pa din kay Mama hanggang ngayon,” tawa ko.
“Alam mo namang kayong dalawa ang perfect wife at perfect na anak para sa akin,” sagot ni Papa. “Hanggang ngayon, kung papipiliin ako-”
“Pa, teka, kakain na ako,” bigla kong putol. Dinampot ko ang plato ko at dali-daling naglakad palayo. Nakita kong nakatayo pala si Tita Nona sa may likod ni Papa, at sa itsura niya, mukhang narinig niya ang lahat.
Nakiupo ulit ako kina Cathy. Doon ko na kinain yung pansit na kinuha ko. Maya-maya pa, nakita kong nagkukuhanan na ng litrato ang bagong mag-asawa kasama ang mga kaibigan nila. Pagkatapos nun eh yung lalake naman kasama ang pamilya niya. Nagbabalak pa lang akong lumabas nang biglang tinawag nung photographer ang pamilya ng babae. Pumunta sa harap sina Tita Nona at si Papa at tumabi kay Ate Jen. Ang saya nilang tingnan. Kitang-kita sa maputing mukha ni ate ang nag-uumapaw na kasiyahan. Bakas naman sa mukha ni Tita Nona na masayang masaya siya para sa anak niya.
“Jason, halika dito!” tawag bigla ni Papa sa akin. Bahagyang nawala ang ngiti nina Tita at Ate. Nagtinginan silang dalawa, pagkatapos ay humarap ulit sila sa photographer. Nakangiti pa rin, pero mas matamlay na kumpara kanina.
Napag buntung hininga ako habang tumatayo. Dahan dahan akong pumunta sa harap. Ayoko na sanang sumali pa, pero pipilitin lang ako ni Papa pag tumanggi ako. Lalo lang hahaba ang usapan. Kung bakit ba kasi hindi niya pa tigilan ang pagpipilit na ipasok ako sa pamilya niya. Anak ako sa labas, tulad nga ng sabi nung tsismosang babae sa garden kanina. Alam ko yun at wala akong problema dun. Siguro nung maliit pa ako, meron, pero ngayon? Wala na. Walang wala na.
Pero eto, nakatayo ako ngayon kasama nila. Masasali ako sa larawan ng pinakamasaya sanang araw sa buhay ni Ate. Naka akbay pa si Papa sa akin. Lalabas na naman akong nakikisiksik nito sa pamilya nila. Pag-bubulungan na naman ako ng mga tsismosa paglabas ko. Tititigan na naman ako nung babaeng kanina lang ako nakilala. At ako na naman ang batang sumira sa masayang pamilya nila.
Si Papa talaga.
Still in the business of making people cry
Monday, February 28, 2011
Saturday, February 26, 2011
What I Can Do
“On an issue this big, what you can do will never be enough. And if it’s not enough, then it doesn’t matter.”
I tweeted that a few days ago. I don’t remember what exactly it was that prompted me to say that, but I think it was yet another article on the Church’s view on homosexuality. Or was it about the RH bill? I’m really not sure. All I remember is that I felt powerless and insignificant after reading it.
Yesterday, I wanted to go to wherever the celebration of EDSA revolution was. I wanted to be at what was ground zero during that turning point in our history. But, being a corporate slave, the only place I could be was in front of my computer so I contented myself with reading about the event on the Internet. I intended to read news articles but I somehow found myself reading the opinion section. I was hoping, no, expecting to read about hope and empowerment and the revolution’s triumph. Instead, every single article called the revolution a failure. Carlos Celdran even went as far as saying in his tweets that the whole thing was a joke. I felt powerless and insignificant once again.
I was not yet born when EDSA revolution happened so I don’t really know anything about it other than what I read in books and saw in documentaries. I had always seen it as a symbol of hope. It was a time when Filipinos banded together, held hands and stood their ground against a dictator. It was when the Filipinos showed that this country belonged to the people. Or at least that was how I saw it. Or perhaps that was what the books I read then said. The stuff I read yesterday, however, said that the country still belongs to the powerful: the political clans, the rich, the Church, etc, and that made the revolution a failure.
I am well aware that our country is still in bad shape. I know that the pyramid still stands strong. Even the least politically-aware Filipino would know that. But I did not expect that fact to be attributed to EDSA revolution’s failure. And the thought of it being a failure is just plain depressing. In high school and in college, we were constantly challenged to be agents of change, to take part in helping this country rise. But if everyone has been taken over by so much cynicism that they consider something as big as EDSA revolution as a failure, then what the hell can I possibly hope to change?
Of course the right thing to do is to still “do my part”. It’s like Winnie Monsod said: I am only one but I am one, and what I could do, I ought to do. Or something like that. And that’s still what I’m going to do. “What I could do” probably won’t matter, the way none of the things I have done so far have mattered, but at the very least I could say “basta, ginawa ko ang parte ko” when I finally raise my hands in surrender.
As for EDSA revolution, I think I’ll still consider it as a symbol of hope. Sure, our country is still struggling, but we all know that it would take a lot more than a revolution in the streets to fix that. EDSA proved that we are capable of joining hands for a single cause. The country was in dark times then, the Filipinos were able to overcome it through EDSA. We are in dark times now, EDSA reminds us that we can overcome it again if we decide as a nation.
If only to keep that small, unsteady flame from being extinguished.
I tweeted that a few days ago. I don’t remember what exactly it was that prompted me to say that, but I think it was yet another article on the Church’s view on homosexuality. Or was it about the RH bill? I’m really not sure. All I remember is that I felt powerless and insignificant after reading it.
Yesterday, I wanted to go to wherever the celebration of EDSA revolution was. I wanted to be at what was ground zero during that turning point in our history. But, being a corporate slave, the only place I could be was in front of my computer so I contented myself with reading about the event on the Internet. I intended to read news articles but I somehow found myself reading the opinion section. I was hoping, no, expecting to read about hope and empowerment and the revolution’s triumph. Instead, every single article called the revolution a failure. Carlos Celdran even went as far as saying in his tweets that the whole thing was a joke. I felt powerless and insignificant once again.
I was not yet born when EDSA revolution happened so I don’t really know anything about it other than what I read in books and saw in documentaries. I had always seen it as a symbol of hope. It was a time when Filipinos banded together, held hands and stood their ground against a dictator. It was when the Filipinos showed that this country belonged to the people. Or at least that was how I saw it. Or perhaps that was what the books I read then said. The stuff I read yesterday, however, said that the country still belongs to the powerful: the political clans, the rich, the Church, etc, and that made the revolution a failure.
I am well aware that our country is still in bad shape. I know that the pyramid still stands strong. Even the least politically-aware Filipino would know that. But I did not expect that fact to be attributed to EDSA revolution’s failure. And the thought of it being a failure is just plain depressing. In high school and in college, we were constantly challenged to be agents of change, to take part in helping this country rise. But if everyone has been taken over by so much cynicism that they consider something as big as EDSA revolution as a failure, then what the hell can I possibly hope to change?
Of course the right thing to do is to still “do my part”. It’s like Winnie Monsod said: I am only one but I am one, and what I could do, I ought to do. Or something like that. And that’s still what I’m going to do. “What I could do” probably won’t matter, the way none of the things I have done so far have mattered, but at the very least I could say “basta, ginawa ko ang parte ko” when I finally raise my hands in surrender.
As for EDSA revolution, I think I’ll still consider it as a symbol of hope. Sure, our country is still struggling, but we all know that it would take a lot more than a revolution in the streets to fix that. EDSA proved that we are capable of joining hands for a single cause. The country was in dark times then, the Filipinos were able to overcome it through EDSA. We are in dark times now, EDSA reminds us that we can overcome it again if we decide as a nation.
If only to keep that small, unsteady flame from being extinguished.
Monday, February 21, 2011
False Epiphany
Ever experienced staring at the MS Word cursor for a long time trying to squeeze out something from your brain? Something, anything that is worth writing down. You try to make sense of all the tangled signals in your brain and you try to weave something out of that mess. But in the end all you have are fragments. Not even remotely resembling a thought. And it sucks.
I’ve been feeling a lot of contradicting emotions for some time now. I try to write them down. I manage to put together a couple of sentences but then I realize I’m not really going anywhere so I stop. I get bored. I open a web browser, go to Facebook or Twitter, or watch some porn, or stare at my blog stats and pretend to analyze them. Then I go back to what I was writing hoping that those sentences would maybe make snese after letting them sit for a few minutes. But they are still just a heap of words. So I delete them and try starting over again.
I’m not pressuring myself to write. I’ve learned that it doesn’t work that way for me. It’s the best part of being a blogger: I can write whenever I want to. No deadlines, no assigned topic, I just write down what I want whenever I feel like it. So no, there’s no pressure at all. I just... I just want to make sense of everything I’m thinking. And writing them down is supposed to help. It’s supposed to be like therapy. But it’s not working right now.
So after hours of alternately staring at a blank document and taking breaks from staring at a blank document, this was what I managed to squeeze out:
I am bored. I am so effin bored.
Some epiphany. “Bored” doesn’t actually capture how I feel right now, but it’s close enough. And now that I think about it, many of the things I did in my life can be explained by “I was bored”.
I took the entrance exam to that science high school and I studied there because I was bored with life in the province.
I studied in that state university because I got bored with Davao.
I buried myself deep into addiction to an online game because I was bored with school.
I broke up with my boyfriend, dated Luis and stopped dating Luis all because I was bored. You could easily put it that way.
I took that HIV test because I had nothing else to do that day. I knew I’d be non-reactive but I took it anyway.
I accepted that job offer because I was tired of being a bum.
I think boredom may also have been one of the reasons I started blogging.
Haha. Here I go again trying to analyze things. But I think I’m on to something this time. A few weeks ago I had an interesting conversation with my best friend. I asked her how she would react if I were HIV positive. She said that she wouldn’t think that my life was a waste because I always did whatever it is that I wanted to do. And I realize that yes, she’s right. That’s a good thing if you do it because you want to keep growing. But that’s not the case with me. I just have this pathological need to keep my life exciting. And while it may appear to some that I’m doing a good job at it, the sad fact is I keep ending up bored over and over again. That’s exactly where I am now.
I want to quit my job.
I want to kiss a stranger.
I met a really interesting guy last weekend. I want to see him again.
I want to move to a different apartment.
I want to partee and drown myself in lights and music. Never tried it before.
I want to meet every single blogger in my list.
I want to sing in front of a thousand people.
I want to go to Davao for the weekend.
I want to buy new clothes.
I want to play Dead Island.
I want to apply for graduate school.
I want to learn how fix cellphones.
I want to jump off a bridge. But I don’t want to die so that’s out of the question.
I want change. Dammit, I want change. I want to live. Change makes me feel alive.
Does anyone know a shrink? I think I need one. Bleccch.
I’ve been feeling a lot of contradicting emotions for some time now. I try to write them down. I manage to put together a couple of sentences but then I realize I’m not really going anywhere so I stop. I get bored. I open a web browser, go to Facebook or Twitter, or watch some porn, or stare at my blog stats and pretend to analyze them. Then I go back to what I was writing hoping that those sentences would maybe make snese after letting them sit for a few minutes. But they are still just a heap of words. So I delete them and try starting over again.
I’m not pressuring myself to write. I’ve learned that it doesn’t work that way for me. It’s the best part of being a blogger: I can write whenever I want to. No deadlines, no assigned topic, I just write down what I want whenever I feel like it. So no, there’s no pressure at all. I just... I just want to make sense of everything I’m thinking. And writing them down is supposed to help. It’s supposed to be like therapy. But it’s not working right now.
So after hours of alternately staring at a blank document and taking breaks from staring at a blank document, this was what I managed to squeeze out:
I am bored. I am so effin bored.
Some epiphany. “Bored” doesn’t actually capture how I feel right now, but it’s close enough. And now that I think about it, many of the things I did in my life can be explained by “I was bored”.
I took the entrance exam to that science high school and I studied there because I was bored with life in the province.
I studied in that state university because I got bored with Davao.
I buried myself deep into addiction to an online game because I was bored with school.
I broke up with my boyfriend, dated Luis and stopped dating Luis all because I was bored. You could easily put it that way.
I took that HIV test because I had nothing else to do that day. I knew I’d be non-reactive but I took it anyway.
I accepted that job offer because I was tired of being a bum.
I think boredom may also have been one of the reasons I started blogging.
Haha. Here I go again trying to analyze things. But I think I’m on to something this time. A few weeks ago I had an interesting conversation with my best friend. I asked her how she would react if I were HIV positive. She said that she wouldn’t think that my life was a waste because I always did whatever it is that I wanted to do. And I realize that yes, she’s right. That’s a good thing if you do it because you want to keep growing. But that’s not the case with me. I just have this pathological need to keep my life exciting. And while it may appear to some that I’m doing a good job at it, the sad fact is I keep ending up bored over and over again. That’s exactly where I am now.
I want to quit my job.
I want to kiss a stranger.
I met a really interesting guy last weekend. I want to see him again.
I want to move to a different apartment.
I want to partee and drown myself in lights and music. Never tried it before.
I want to meet every single blogger in my list.
I want to sing in front of a thousand people.
I want to go to Davao for the weekend.
I want to buy new clothes.
I want to play Dead Island.
I want to apply for graduate school.
I want to learn how fix cellphones.
I want to jump off a bridge. But I don’t want to die so that’s out of the question.
I want change. Dammit, I want change. I want to live. Change makes me feel alive.
Does anyone know a shrink? I think I need one. Bleccch.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Grown-up Game: Patay Malisya
Pangalan ng laro: Patay Malisya
Material/s: Kumot
Number of players: kahit ilan
Mechanics: Magtatalukbong ng kumot ang ilang manlalaro. Kung sino man ang nasa labas ng kumot, patay-malisya lang dapat.
For example
Players: Enzo, Darwin, Nishiboy, Mar, Edward, Kyo
PART 1
Hawak ni Darwin ang kumot. Si Enzo naman eh nakahiga. Pumatong bigla si Darwin kay Enzo at nagtalukbong ng kumot. Pero nakalabas sa kumot ang ulo ni Enzo.
Enzo: Teka, ano ginagawa mo jan?
Darwin: (galing sa loob ng kumot) Wag ka magulo, nasa labas ulo mo kaya dapat patay-malisya ka din.
Enzo: Uy teka! Belt ko!
Itinulak ni Darwin ang mga kamay ni Enzo palabas ng kumot.
Enzo: (nakatingin sa mga nasa labas ng kumot): *help*
Nishiboy, Mar, Edward at Kyo: *patay-malisya*
**********
PART 2
Nakahiga sina Enzo at Nishiboy. Nakapatong pa rin si Darwin kay Enzo. Si Mar naman eh nakapatong kay Nishiboy.
Nishiboy: O, bakit pati ako nadamay?
Darwin: Dahil pareho kayong alay sa akin ngayong gabi.
Edward: Happy birthday nga pala ulit Darwin.
Nishiboy at Enzo: Halaaa!
Nishiboy: Eh si Mar?
Mar: Close kami ni Darwin. Bakit ba?
Nagtalukbong ng kumot sina Darwin at Mar. Nakalabas ang mga ulo at mga kamay nina Enzo at Nishiboy.
Enzo at Nishiboy: (nakatingin kina Edward at Kyo): *help*
Edward at Kyo: *patay malisya*
**********
PART 3
Tumayo sina Darwin at Mar para uminom ng tubig. Nakahiga pa din sina Nishiboy at Enzo. Ang kumot ay nakaligpit na at nakalagay sa tabi nina Edward at Kyo.
Enzo: (hinihingal) Kaya pala libre tong inom.
Nishiboy: (nagpupunas ng pawis) Kaya pala nasa malayong lugar.
Enzo: (inabot ang kamay kay Nishiboy) Nga pala, ako si Enzo.
Nishiboy: (inabot din ang kamay) Hello. Ako si Nishiboy.
Ang handshake ay napunta sa holding hands. Matapos ang ilang segundo, hinalikan ni Enzo si Nishiboy.
Darwin: Aba teka, bakit nag-aaurahan tong dalawang alay?
Kyo: Ehem. (sabay bato ng kumot kina Enzo)
Nagtalukbong ng kumot sina Enzo at Nishiboy.
Material/s: Kumot
Number of players: kahit ilan
Mechanics: Magtatalukbong ng kumot ang ilang manlalaro. Kung sino man ang nasa labas ng kumot, patay-malisya lang dapat.
For example
Players: Enzo, Darwin, Nishiboy, Mar, Edward, Kyo
PART 1
Hawak ni Darwin ang kumot. Si Enzo naman eh nakahiga. Pumatong bigla si Darwin kay Enzo at nagtalukbong ng kumot. Pero nakalabas sa kumot ang ulo ni Enzo.
Enzo: Teka, ano ginagawa mo jan?
Darwin: (galing sa loob ng kumot) Wag ka magulo, nasa labas ulo mo kaya dapat patay-malisya ka din.
Enzo: Uy teka! Belt ko!
Itinulak ni Darwin ang mga kamay ni Enzo palabas ng kumot.
Enzo: (nakatingin sa mga nasa labas ng kumot): *help*
Nishiboy, Mar, Edward at Kyo: *patay-malisya*
**********
PART 2
Nakahiga sina Enzo at Nishiboy. Nakapatong pa rin si Darwin kay Enzo. Si Mar naman eh nakapatong kay Nishiboy.
Nishiboy: O, bakit pati ako nadamay?
Darwin: Dahil pareho kayong alay sa akin ngayong gabi.
Edward: Happy birthday nga pala ulit Darwin.
Nishiboy at Enzo: Halaaa!
Nishiboy: Eh si Mar?
Mar: Close kami ni Darwin. Bakit ba?
Nagtalukbong ng kumot sina Darwin at Mar. Nakalabas ang mga ulo at mga kamay nina Enzo at Nishiboy.
Enzo at Nishiboy: (nakatingin kina Edward at Kyo): *help*
Edward at Kyo: *patay malisya*
**********
PART 3
Tumayo sina Darwin at Mar para uminom ng tubig. Nakahiga pa din sina Nishiboy at Enzo. Ang kumot ay nakaligpit na at nakalagay sa tabi nina Edward at Kyo.
Enzo: (hinihingal) Kaya pala libre tong inom.
Nishiboy: (nagpupunas ng pawis) Kaya pala nasa malayong lugar.
Enzo: (inabot ang kamay kay Nishiboy) Nga pala, ako si Enzo.
Nishiboy: (inabot din ang kamay) Hello. Ako si Nishiboy.
Ang handshake ay napunta sa holding hands. Matapos ang ilang segundo, hinalikan ni Enzo si Nishiboy.
Darwin: Aba teka, bakit nag-aaurahan tong dalawang alay?
Kyo: Ehem. (sabay bato ng kumot kina Enzo)
Nagtalukbong ng kumot sina Enzo at Nishiboy.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
To The One Who Holds His Heart
When you two eat, make sure to get two glasses of water and two pairs of spoons and forks. You’ll get up again if you don’t.
Offer to carry his bag for him. He probably won’t refuse but if he does, insist on taking it.
He likes chocolates a lot. And ice cream. He’ll be very happy if you buy some for him.
He likes looking at himself so give him a mirror. It will probably be broken after two weeks. Give him a new one.
If you have to leave him while he’s sleeping, be sure to be back before he wakes up. He’ll get upset if he doesn’t see you beside him when he does.
If he wakes up and throws something at you, it’s probably because he dreamt that you had a fight. Apologize.
Grow your hair long if you can. He’ll sleep better if he can twirl your hair around his fingers.
Don’t be mad if he forgets your number or your birthday. If you don’t want that to happen, tell him your number and birthday every day.
He’s not one of those pseudo-macho guys. Give him flowers. Write him a letter. Take his hand and slow-dance with him. He’ll appreciate it.
If he pulls away from a kiss, let him. It means he needs to breathe.
He peeks when kissing. Pretend that you don’t notice.
If he says he’s coming over, prepare a towel. He’ll be sweating profusely when he arrives.
If you play an MMORPG, he’ll probably make a wizard. Make a healer. He’ll need one.
Keep your explanations short. If you talk for more than ten seconds, you’ll lose him.
Call him whenever you can. He likes getting surprise calls.
When you’re stressed at work, call him. You’ll feel better.
Keep him updated when you go out with your friends. He’s paranoid. If you don’t text for more than an hour, he’ll think you’ve died or something.
Go home drunk once in a while. He finds the smell of cigarette and alcohol sexy.
Try to stay up when he’s working. It helps if he has someone to bounce off ideas with.
He tends to work too much. Sometimes you’ll have to force him to stop working and get some sleep.
Never tell him that you think his job is easy. You’ll regret it if you do.
He’s scared of the dentist. Accompany him if he needs to go there.
Be prepared to be covered in bite marks.
If he bites you and it already hurts, tell him. Otherwise he won’t stop.
If you miss him, try to avoid kids. Otherwise you’ll miss him even more.
Hold his hand in public. He’s been wanting to experience that for a long time.
Introduce him to your friends as your boyfriend. That will make him very happy.
A lot of other guys will go after him. He’s gorgeous so there’s nothing you can do about it. Don’t worry. He’s the most faithful guy you’ll ever meet.
Treat him like a man but love him like a child.
You are lucky to have his heart. Never ever forget that.
Offer to carry his bag for him. He probably won’t refuse but if he does, insist on taking it.
He likes chocolates a lot. And ice cream. He’ll be very happy if you buy some for him.
He likes looking at himself so give him a mirror. It will probably be broken after two weeks. Give him a new one.
If you have to leave him while he’s sleeping, be sure to be back before he wakes up. He’ll get upset if he doesn’t see you beside him when he does.
If he wakes up and throws something at you, it’s probably because he dreamt that you had a fight. Apologize.
Grow your hair long if you can. He’ll sleep better if he can twirl your hair around his fingers.
Don’t be mad if he forgets your number or your birthday. If you don’t want that to happen, tell him your number and birthday every day.
He’s not one of those pseudo-macho guys. Give him flowers. Write him a letter. Take his hand and slow-dance with him. He’ll appreciate it.
If he pulls away from a kiss, let him. It means he needs to breathe.
He peeks when kissing. Pretend that you don’t notice.
If he says he’s coming over, prepare a towel. He’ll be sweating profusely when he arrives.
If you play an MMORPG, he’ll probably make a wizard. Make a healer. He’ll need one.
Keep your explanations short. If you talk for more than ten seconds, you’ll lose him.
Call him whenever you can. He likes getting surprise calls.
When you’re stressed at work, call him. You’ll feel better.
Keep him updated when you go out with your friends. He’s paranoid. If you don’t text for more than an hour, he’ll think you’ve died or something.
Go home drunk once in a while. He finds the smell of cigarette and alcohol sexy.
Try to stay up when he’s working. It helps if he has someone to bounce off ideas with.
He tends to work too much. Sometimes you’ll have to force him to stop working and get some sleep.
Never tell him that you think his job is easy. You’ll regret it if you do.
He’s scared of the dentist. Accompany him if he needs to go there.
Be prepared to be covered in bite marks.
If he bites you and it already hurts, tell him. Otherwise he won’t stop.
If you miss him, try to avoid kids. Otherwise you’ll miss him even more.
Hold his hand in public. He’s been wanting to experience that for a long time.
Introduce him to your friends as your boyfriend. That will make him very happy.
A lot of other guys will go after him. He’s gorgeous so there’s nothing you can do about it. Don’t worry. He’s the most faithful guy you’ll ever meet.
Treat him like a man but love him like a child.
You are lucky to have his heart. Never ever forget that.
Saturday, February 12, 2011
My Ideal Guy
Last night, while I was going through my old files in my laptop, I found something I wrote for a Speech class in college. The instruction was to write about your ideal guy/girl in the most descriptive, most vivid way you can.
This was what I wrote:
And this is the part where I hide under a rock for a minute while I barf all that cheese off.
Of course I was writing about a guy. And yes, it was about my ex. I was basically describing him and how he made me feel. I wasn’t sure how my teacher would take a boy writing about another boy, though, so I avoided using gender-specific pronouns. I didn’t expect it to be that difficult. And boy, I had no idea that I sucked at writing about love back then.
Had my concept of an “ideal guy” changed since then? I’m not sure. I don’t think I really had one in the first place. My “ideal guy” is always the one I’m dating at the moment. Or at least that’s the case when we start dating. I always come to the point where I start to see imperfections in the person and in the relationship. And the thing is, I concentrate on them too much that I forget that I already have my ideal guy. And then I let go.
I’m going to spend this coming Valentine’s day alone. Well, not exactly. I’ll be with my friends, but you know what I mean. While everyone is celebrating that day with the person they love, I’ll be the third wheel in my friends’ date. I’ll watch them get extra sweet with each other and I’ll listen to them declare their love for each other while I sit in the corner, probably texting a potential trick just to pretend that I have someone. But it’s okay. That day will be etched so deeply into my brain that it will remind me to recognize genuine love when I see it. And to not let go when I finally have it in my hands again.
To those who have found their ideal person and chose to keep their eyes on love, congratulations to you and may you never lose sight of what you have. As for the rest of us who are still looking at love from a distance, well, love is beautiful and it deserves to be celebrated by everyone. Who knows? We might just make the team next year. (LOL)
Happy Valentine’s Day everyone.
This was what I wrote:
I am free-spirited. I keep as much distance as I can from responsibilities and commitments. I do not react well to being leashed.
I have a strong sense of self-preservation. I do not allow anyone to invade my space. I retaliate when someone tries to manipulate me.
I am my own boss. I live for myself and I like it that way. I enjoy having full control over my time and over my choices.
I am self-centered. I always go for the option that benefits me. I do not compromise. I am annoyed it when things do not happen my way.
I am manipulative. I tend to take advantage of the people around me, especially those who are particularly fond of me. It’s a convenient way to lessen my load and make my life easier.
That’s me, a guy who thrives in solitude.
The person I want to spend the rest of my life with is someone who can change that, someone I would love so much that I would willingly give up my freedom and choose to be bound in our relationship.
My ideal person is able to put up with my incessant ramblings about myself, my ideas, my life and all the other nonsense that I want to talk about, without thinking that it’s nonsense. We have good, long conversations without boring each other out. These conversations not only make me want to talk, but also to listen. I try to catch and remember everything that I hear. We listen to each other with a genuine interest and every day we discover something new about each other.
Every embrace that we share makes me want to just take care of everything for my beloved. The warmth that I feel is unlike anything else. We fit into each other’s arms so perfectly that I do not want to pull away. My only desire is to protect my beloved and make sure that everything will be fine for us.
Whenever I look at my beloved, I feel lucky. I watch every move, look at every part, and I wonder how someone so wonderful could ever have fallen in love with me. I begin to wonder if I’m really worthy of it. Then our eyes meet. I see the gentle and smiling eyes that already had my heart smitten before I even realized it. I remember how I felt the first time I gazed into those eyes and how I got lost in them. And I remember how it felt to see them gazing back at me. My heart beats in a calm rhythm, for I am reassured that our love is real.
Our kisses are the sweetest. When our lips meet, I just close my eyes, hold on tight and savor every moment. We pull each other closer and I start to feel fingers running through my hair. I feel my tresses getting twirled around those fingers that seem intent on messing up the hair that I had carefully arranged. I do not mind, not even when it starts to hurt.
My ideal person does not mind if I act a little unusual. I sometimes suddenly sing at the top of my lungs. I dance around when I hear novelty songs being played. I talk spontaneously when I don’t want to hear my own thoughts. I walk for hours when I am stressed. My beloved doesn’t mind any of that, and even appreciates me for it.
The moments I spend in the relationship are the only ones when I do not live for myself. I am at my beloved’s disposal. My time is no longer my own, but ours. I choose what’s best for the both of us. I no longer do the things that used to make me happy. I have a new reason for happiness and that is to serve my beloved. We will grow old together and as we do, we will constantly look back and relive our love story, and we will fall in love all over again every time.
And this is the part where I hide under a rock for a minute while I barf all that cheese off.
Of course I was writing about a guy. And yes, it was about my ex. I was basically describing him and how he made me feel. I wasn’t sure how my teacher would take a boy writing about another boy, though, so I avoided using gender-specific pronouns. I didn’t expect it to be that difficult. And boy, I had no idea that I sucked at writing about love back then.
Had my concept of an “ideal guy” changed since then? I’m not sure. I don’t think I really had one in the first place. My “ideal guy” is always the one I’m dating at the moment. Or at least that’s the case when we start dating. I always come to the point where I start to see imperfections in the person and in the relationship. And the thing is, I concentrate on them too much that I forget that I already have my ideal guy. And then I let go.
I’m going to spend this coming Valentine’s day alone. Well, not exactly. I’ll be with my friends, but you know what I mean. While everyone is celebrating that day with the person they love, I’ll be the third wheel in my friends’ date. I’ll watch them get extra sweet with each other and I’ll listen to them declare their love for each other while I sit in the corner, probably texting a potential trick just to pretend that I have someone. But it’s okay. That day will be etched so deeply into my brain that it will remind me to recognize genuine love when I see it. And to not let go when I finally have it in my hands again.
To those who have found their ideal person and chose to keep their eyes on love, congratulations to you and may you never lose sight of what you have. As for the rest of us who are still looking at love from a distance, well, love is beautiful and it deserves to be celebrated by everyone. Who knows? We might just make the team next year. (LOL)
Happy Valentine’s Day everyone.
Friday, February 11, 2011
The Mapagmahal Blog Award
And the results are in.
I got the following badges from Kamila’s Mapagmahal Blog Award:
See the complete results HERE. Well, almost complete, actually. She still hasn't announced the "Ultimate Winner".
I read through all the entries the night before she announced the winners and there were two entries that I liked:
Sa Aking Pag-lingon by Jhengpot
I liked this one because it does not attempt to be anything. No big words, no pretentious emo settings, no lame attempts to make you cry. It just tells a story.
Glass by Spiral Prince
This one was just effortless, on a completely different league. Like I told Spiral, this would have been my choice for the ultimate winner had I been the judge.
As for my entry, I sent in On My Way, a post from my previous blog. I was actually going to send in Acceptance after I asked some of my friends to help me choose, but I later thought it was too personal to be used in a contest.
Anyway, here is my entry:
That was originally posted HERE.
If you’re interested in reading Acceptance, the one I almost sent, you can read it HERE.
Congratulations to all of the winners!
I got the following badges from Kamila’s Mapagmahal Blog Award:
See the complete results HERE. Well, almost complete, actually. She still hasn't announced the "Ultimate Winner".
I read through all the entries the night before she announced the winners and there were two entries that I liked:
Sa Aking Pag-lingon by Jhengpot
I liked this one because it does not attempt to be anything. No big words, no pretentious emo settings, no lame attempts to make you cry. It just tells a story.
Glass by Spiral Prince
This one was just effortless, on a completely different league. Like I told Spiral, this would have been my choice for the ultimate winner had I been the judge.
As for my entry, I sent in On My Way, a post from my previous blog. I was actually going to send in Acceptance after I asked some of my friends to help me choose, but I later thought it was too personal to be used in a contest.
Anyway, here is my entry:
On My Way
I was standing at the same spot where I waited for my ex to come out for our date more than three years ago. It was at the side of the road, beside two small palm trees. On the other side was the gate to his apartment. The place has changed a bit since then. The payphone that used to be on the wall behind me was now gone. The gate that used to be barely above waist level was now seven feet high. But other than that, everything has pretty much stayed the same.
It was evening then too. It was going to be our first date. We were going to meet properly for the first time. I can still remember my nerves while I stood there. I shifted from leg to leg, taking long drags from my cigarette. I was worried as hell that he won’t like what he would see. I stalled. I smoked one stick first when I got there, then waited a few more minutes before I finally took out my phone and texted him that I was already outside.
I found myself smiling as I recalled the scene. I also had a cigarette in one hand and my phone in the other. And like that night, I was also stalling, taking my time at looking around the place and reminiscing. I recalled how I was in awe when he finally came out and walked to me. He was beautiful. I remembered how we walked together to our date, unaware that we will fall in love and share some of our happiest days together.
But that was more than three years ago. And my cigarette was almost out. I took one last puff before flicking it. I typed at my phone as I started walking.
“Hey Luis, I’m on my way.”
That was originally posted HERE.
If you’re interested in reading Acceptance, the one I almost sent, you can read it HERE.
Congratulations to all of the winners!
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
The White Dress
My aunt held up a small white dress that she took from the stand. “What about this one?” she asked my mom.
My mom looked at it for two seconds and shook her head. “No, I don’t think that will fit. Mommy’s small but that’s a bit too short for her,” she said before she continued looking through the dresses hung on display. She stopped at the fifth dress, pulled it out and held it up. She inspected it for a few seconds, holding it out at arm’s length and turning it around a few times, but she shook her head again and put it back in the stand.
“Let’s look over there,” she said as she started walking towards the area across the aisle. My aunt and my cousin followed her.
I let out a sigh. We had been walking around the department store for well over an hour already, trying to find a dress for Mommy, my grandmother. I didn’t even have to come along with them. It was the first day of my Christmas break and my mom told me I can stay home if I wanted to, but I tagged along anyway because I figured it was the polite thing to do. I had no idea it would take them this long, and I was already starting to regret my decision.
I looked over to where my mom went. She was already looking for me but I didn’t want to go to that area. There was nowhere for me to sit. I was considering hiding behind the mannequin when my mom saw me and motioned me to come. I let out another sigh, stood up and dragged myself towards them.
“What exactly are we looking for again?” I asked when I got there.
“A white dress. For Mommy,” my mom answered while she was busily rummaging through the dresses.
“Yeah, but what for?” I asked. I felt a yawn coming and turned around.
“This one is good but it has too many pleats,” my mom said, completely ignoring my question. She handed a dress to my aunt. I looked at it; it was indeed a bit too over the top for Mommy. An 80-year woman old would not exactly look fabulous in ruffles and pleats.
“No, she can’t wear this. This looks too princess-ish,” my aunt chuckled.
“Well, you are looking in the children’s section, you know,” my cousin commented. He was playing with his phone but he was obviously as bored as I was.
“That’s because mommy’s small,” my aunt snapped. “She’s even smaller now than when you last saw her because she’s lost a lot of weight. She’s always sick. You’d know that if you cared to come with me when I visit her in the province.”
My cousin sighed, “Here we go again.” Then he went back to playing with his phone.
“Ma, what’s the dress for? You still haven’t answered me,” I asked my mom again. But she was still too absorbed in rummaging and she still didn’t hear me. I was about to ask again when my aunt answered, “For church.”
“Ah, I see. I was wondering why you were only looking at the white dresses,” I said. “So she’s coming with us to church on Christmas? But I thought you said she was too weak to even leave the house?”
“The dresses here are even worse than the ones on the other stands,” my mom interrupted.
“Okay then, let’s go to the next one,” my aunt said as she started to look around for other stands that we might have missed.
“No, I think that’s enough. I think we’ve already seen the best ones,” my mom said. She looked at me and my cousin. “Besides, the boys are already tired.”
“Okay, so which one will we take?” my aunt asked. “I like the one with the rounded shoulders. I think that was in the second stand we went to.”
“Yes, that one was nice. Here, take this,” my mom said. She took out her wallet and gave some money to my aunt.
“Okay. We’ll go get it. Wait for us here,” my aunt said to us.
“That wasn’t a dress for the mass,” my mom said to me quietly when my cousin and my aunt were already out of earshot. “Like you said, Mommy can’t leave the house anymore. She’s too weak.”
She was still looking through the dresses on the stand.
“When we go there this Christmas,” she went on, “that might be the last time we see her. The last time we see her alive. And you know that your uncles don’t make much money so... So your aunt and I just want to make sure that everything will be ready before we leave. You know, if anything happens.”
She had stopped fiddling through the dresses. Her hands were clutching at a dress hung on the stands. She was still avoiding my eyes. After a few seconds, she took out her handkerchief and brought it to her eyes.
I was stunned. I didn’t know what to say. I slowly moved to her and hugged her. She leaned her head on my shoulder and sobbed. I looked at the dress she had been clutching and saw the crumpled cloth where her hand had been.
“Ma, Tita is coming,” I whispered after a few minutes. My mom moved away from me and hurriedly wiped her tears off.
“Ate, here’s the change,” my aunt said as she handed some coins to my mom. I caught a brief glimpse of her eyes and saw that there were also tears in them.
My mom took the money and put it in her purse. Then she took the bag with the dress. “Do you think Mommy will like it?”
My aunt smiled. “Of course she will.”
My mom handed the bag back to my aunt. “Come, let’s eat. I’m sure the boys are already hungry from all that walking,” she said. She took her sister's hand and they started walking away.
My cousin and I looked at each other. His eyes had the same sadness that I felt in my heart. He smiled weakly then ran to catch up with them. I followed. He took his mom’s hand and I put my arm around my mom’s shoulders as we walked out of the store.
My mom looked at it for two seconds and shook her head. “No, I don’t think that will fit. Mommy’s small but that’s a bit too short for her,” she said before she continued looking through the dresses hung on display. She stopped at the fifth dress, pulled it out and held it up. She inspected it for a few seconds, holding it out at arm’s length and turning it around a few times, but she shook her head again and put it back in the stand.
“Let’s look over there,” she said as she started walking towards the area across the aisle. My aunt and my cousin followed her.
I let out a sigh. We had been walking around the department store for well over an hour already, trying to find a dress for Mommy, my grandmother. I didn’t even have to come along with them. It was the first day of my Christmas break and my mom told me I can stay home if I wanted to, but I tagged along anyway because I figured it was the polite thing to do. I had no idea it would take them this long, and I was already starting to regret my decision.
I looked over to where my mom went. She was already looking for me but I didn’t want to go to that area. There was nowhere for me to sit. I was considering hiding behind the mannequin when my mom saw me and motioned me to come. I let out another sigh, stood up and dragged myself towards them.
“What exactly are we looking for again?” I asked when I got there.
“A white dress. For Mommy,” my mom answered while she was busily rummaging through the dresses.
“Yeah, but what for?” I asked. I felt a yawn coming and turned around.
“This one is good but it has too many pleats,” my mom said, completely ignoring my question. She handed a dress to my aunt. I looked at it; it was indeed a bit too over the top for Mommy. An 80-year woman old would not exactly look fabulous in ruffles and pleats.
“No, she can’t wear this. This looks too princess-ish,” my aunt chuckled.
“Well, you are looking in the children’s section, you know,” my cousin commented. He was playing with his phone but he was obviously as bored as I was.
“That’s because mommy’s small,” my aunt snapped. “She’s even smaller now than when you last saw her because she’s lost a lot of weight. She’s always sick. You’d know that if you cared to come with me when I visit her in the province.”
My cousin sighed, “Here we go again.” Then he went back to playing with his phone.
“Ma, what’s the dress for? You still haven’t answered me,” I asked my mom again. But she was still too absorbed in rummaging and she still didn’t hear me. I was about to ask again when my aunt answered, “For church.”
“Ah, I see. I was wondering why you were only looking at the white dresses,” I said. “So she’s coming with us to church on Christmas? But I thought you said she was too weak to even leave the house?”
“The dresses here are even worse than the ones on the other stands,” my mom interrupted.
“Okay then, let’s go to the next one,” my aunt said as she started to look around for other stands that we might have missed.
“No, I think that’s enough. I think we’ve already seen the best ones,” my mom said. She looked at me and my cousin. “Besides, the boys are already tired.”
“Okay, so which one will we take?” my aunt asked. “I like the one with the rounded shoulders. I think that was in the second stand we went to.”
“Yes, that one was nice. Here, take this,” my mom said. She took out her wallet and gave some money to my aunt.
“Okay. We’ll go get it. Wait for us here,” my aunt said to us.
“That wasn’t a dress for the mass,” my mom said to me quietly when my cousin and my aunt were already out of earshot. “Like you said, Mommy can’t leave the house anymore. She’s too weak.”
She was still looking through the dresses on the stand.
“When we go there this Christmas,” she went on, “that might be the last time we see her. The last time we see her alive. And you know that your uncles don’t make much money so... So your aunt and I just want to make sure that everything will be ready before we leave. You know, if anything happens.”
She had stopped fiddling through the dresses. Her hands were clutching at a dress hung on the stands. She was still avoiding my eyes. After a few seconds, she took out her handkerchief and brought it to her eyes.
I was stunned. I didn’t know what to say. I slowly moved to her and hugged her. She leaned her head on my shoulder and sobbed. I looked at the dress she had been clutching and saw the crumpled cloth where her hand had been.
“Ma, Tita is coming,” I whispered after a few minutes. My mom moved away from me and hurriedly wiped her tears off.
“Ate, here’s the change,” my aunt said as she handed some coins to my mom. I caught a brief glimpse of her eyes and saw that there were also tears in them.
My mom took the money and put it in her purse. Then she took the bag with the dress. “Do you think Mommy will like it?”
My aunt smiled. “Of course she will.”
My mom handed the bag back to my aunt. “Come, let’s eat. I’m sure the boys are already hungry from all that walking,” she said. She took her sister's hand and they started walking away.
My cousin and I looked at each other. His eyes had the same sadness that I felt in my heart. He smiled weakly then ran to catch up with them. I followed. He took his mom’s hand and I put my arm around my mom’s shoulders as we walked out of the store.
Saturday, February 5, 2011
And I'm Still Emo
I was going to write something for him. I was going to tell him that I’m better for him than any other guy ever will be. I was going to list down plenty of reasons, stuff like “I know how to take care of you” or “I lost you too many times and I’m not going to lose you again”. Then at the end, I was going to say that I was talking about my old phone that my cousin is asking for.
But that would me immature.
So this is what I’m going to say instead: I still don’t know how long it will take for me to finally get over this friggin phase. I'm not even sure if this is just a phase or if this will be something that I’ll have to deal with forever. I’m not okay, but I’ll manage.
“Who cares?” you ask.
The care bears care.
Tonight, I’m going to drown myself in music and booze yet again. The noise will keep me from hearing myself think, and the beer will numb my brain enough to quell whatever thoughts would get past the music. This tag team has never failed me before and I’m counting on them again tonight.
When I get home, I’ll turn on my laptop and move all of my files that have anything to do with him into a single folder. I’ll search every folder, read every article and play every video and sound clip and if they are in any way connected to him, I will place them in that folder. And when I’m finally done doing that, I will not delete them. I will just leave them there for easy access.
But if I’m too drunk when I get home, I’ll probably just sleep.
On Valentine’s Day, I will go out on a date. It will be a romantic date, with dinner and a movie, perhaps even flowers. I will buy my date a gift. I will make him feel just how important he is because, come to think of it, he’s been quite downcast these past months. I will do my best to make him happy. If you guessed that I’m going on a date with myself, you guessed right. It’s my first time in three years to be alone on Valentine’s Day, so at least let me pretend that I’m on a date with someone.
“That’s so corny,” you say.
Even the care bears don’t care.
“But what about sex? You can’t let that day pass without sex.” I won’t. There will be sex. No, not with myself. That’s not within my skill set. With someone else. I’m not yet sure who he or she or they will be. But it will happen. Then after the sex, while I’m lying there spent and catching my breath, I will probably ask myself again, “What the hell am I doing with my life?”
Putanginang yan, ano nga ba?
But that would me immature.
So this is what I’m going to say instead: I still don’t know how long it will take for me to finally get over this friggin phase. I'm not even sure if this is just a phase or if this will be something that I’ll have to deal with forever. I’m not okay, but I’ll manage.
“Who cares?” you ask.
The care bears care.
Tonight, I’m going to drown myself in music and booze yet again. The noise will keep me from hearing myself think, and the beer will numb my brain enough to quell whatever thoughts would get past the music. This tag team has never failed me before and I’m counting on them again tonight.
When I get home, I’ll turn on my laptop and move all of my files that have anything to do with him into a single folder. I’ll search every folder, read every article and play every video and sound clip and if they are in any way connected to him, I will place them in that folder. And when I’m finally done doing that, I will not delete them. I will just leave them there for easy access.
But if I’m too drunk when I get home, I’ll probably just sleep.
On Valentine’s Day, I will go out on a date. It will be a romantic date, with dinner and a movie, perhaps even flowers. I will buy my date a gift. I will make him feel just how important he is because, come to think of it, he’s been quite downcast these past months. I will do my best to make him happy. If you guessed that I’m going on a date with myself, you guessed right. It’s my first time in three years to be alone on Valentine’s Day, so at least let me pretend that I’m on a date with someone.
“That’s so corny,” you say.
Even the care bears don’t care.
“But what about sex? You can’t let that day pass without sex.” I won’t. There will be sex. No, not with myself. That’s not within my skill set. With someone else. I’m not yet sure who he or she or they will be. But it will happen. Then after the sex, while I’m lying there spent and catching my breath, I will probably ask myself again, “What the hell am I doing with my life?”
Putanginang yan, ano nga ba?
You can't tell me to "make up my mind" or to "stick to my decision". And neither can you tell me that moving on is a choice. Cmon. You should know better than that.
If you insist on either of those, then you haven't the slightest idea about love.
Friday, February 4, 2011
Not Following Instructions
Sinubukan kong magsulat ng para sa Mapagmahal Blogger Award ni Kamila pero wala talaga, hindi talaga ako inspired. Kaya naman nagdecide akong pumili na lang sa mga nasulat ko na. Bilang wala pa naman akong nalalagay dito gaano, dun ako naghanap sa lumang blog.
Pagkatapos kong i-speed read ang entries ko dun for five minutes, nakapili ako ng tatlong potential entries:
But no, hindi ako makapili kung alin sa kanila ang isasubmit, kaya nagdecide akong humingi ng tulong sa mga kaibigan. Tumingin ako sa Buddy List ko at isa-isa akong nag-YM ng mga qualified na hurado. Gusto ko sana makakuha ng limang judges.
Eto ang sabi ko: Bigyan ng 2pts ang pinakamagugustuhan, tapos 1pt sa runner-up. Parang nomination night lang.
Judge#1: Honey (best friend ko sa opisina)
Honey: Yung una ang pinaka gusto ko…, Tapos yung panghuli…, Pero di ganun kalayo ang agwat…,
Nishiboy: Pangit ba yung pangatlo?
Honey: Ayoko ng tagalog…,
Nishiboy: Bakit?
Honey: Wala lang, maiba lang…,
Nishiboy: Ok. Eh di 2pts sa una, 1 pt sa panghuli?
Honey: Hindi, malapit lang ang agwat…, More like…
Scores ni Honey:
Judge#2: Kraehe (blogger na kakilala ko na mula pa nung nag-aadik adik kami pareho sa online games)
Kraehe: Hmm.. Gusto ko yung second.
Nishiboy: Bakit?
Kraehe: Eh itodo mo na ang pagka-emo kung emo rin lang.
Nishiboy: Wow. Salamat.
Kraehe: Tapos tabla sila nung last. So one point pareho.
Nishiboy: Ha? Di ka ba pwede pumili ng mas gusto mo? Tsaka total of 3pts ang kailangang i-allocate. Di pwedeng 1pt sila pareho.
Scores ni Kraehe:
Judge#3: DSM (blogger friend mula pa sa luma kong blog)
DSM: I vote for…
Nishiboy: …?
DSM: wait for it…
DSM: Acceptance.
Nishiboy: Uy, leading si Acceptance ah. Bakit siya?
DSM: Because love is a positive message and despite the bitterness, that post is positive and hopeful.
Nishiboy: Tangina, ang lalim ah. Teka, so alin second choice mo?
DSM: Wala. Give all my points to acceptance.
Scores ni DSM:
Judge # 4: Cupcake (senior dev naming na naka sick leave, pero online pa din at nagwowork at home)
Nishiboy: Nabasa mo na?
Nishiboy: …?
*Cupcake is Idle*
Nishiboy: Cupcake?
Nishiboy: Still there?
Cupcake: Gusto ko yung pangalawa. Nakakaiyak.
*Cupcake has signed out*
Scores ni Cupcake:
Di na ako naghanap ng panglimang judge.
Nakapili pa din ako ng isasubmit.
At ang aking napili ay…
Wala sa tatlong yan.
Na-realize ko kasing masyadong personal yang mga yan, kaya pumili ako ng iba. Ok din naman yung napili ko.
Pagkatapos kong i-speed read ang entries ko dun for five minutes, nakapili ako ng tatlong potential entries:
- As X Approaches Infinity
- Acceptance
- Kung Nagkataon
But no, hindi ako makapili kung alin sa kanila ang isasubmit, kaya nagdecide akong humingi ng tulong sa mga kaibigan. Tumingin ako sa Buddy List ko at isa-isa akong nag-YM ng mga qualified na hurado. Gusto ko sana makakuha ng limang judges.
Eto ang sabi ko: Bigyan ng 2pts ang pinakamagugustuhan, tapos 1pt sa runner-up. Parang nomination night lang.
Judge#1: Honey (best friend ko sa opisina)
Honey: Yung una ang pinaka gusto ko…, Tapos yung panghuli…, Pero di ganun kalayo ang agwat…,
Nishiboy: Pangit ba yung pangatlo?
Honey: Ayoko ng tagalog…,
Nishiboy: Bakit?
Honey: Wala lang, maiba lang…,
Nishiboy: Ok. Eh di 2pts sa una, 1 pt sa panghuli?
Honey: Hindi, malapit lang ang agwat…, More like…
Scores ni Honey:
- As X Approaches Infinity – 1.75
- Acceptance – 0
- Kung Nagkataon – 1.25
Judge#2: Kraehe (blogger na kakilala ko na mula pa nung nag-aadik adik kami pareho sa online games)
Kraehe: Hmm.. Gusto ko yung second.
Nishiboy: Bakit?
Kraehe: Eh itodo mo na ang pagka-emo kung emo rin lang.
Nishiboy: Wow. Salamat.
Kraehe: Tapos tabla sila nung last. So one point pareho.
Nishiboy: Ha? Di ka ba pwede pumili ng mas gusto mo? Tsaka total of 3pts ang kailangang i-allocate. Di pwedeng 1pt sila pareho.
Scores ni Kraehe:
- As X Approaches Infinity – 0
- Acceptance – 1.5
- Kung Nagkataon – 1.5
Judge#3: DSM (blogger friend mula pa sa luma kong blog)
DSM: I vote for…
Nishiboy: …?
DSM: wait for it…
DSM: Acceptance.
Nishiboy: Uy, leading si Acceptance ah. Bakit siya?
DSM: Because love is a positive message and despite the bitterness, that post is positive and hopeful.
Nishiboy: Tangina, ang lalim ah. Teka, so alin second choice mo?
DSM: Wala. Give all my points to acceptance.
Scores ni DSM:
- As X Approaches Infinity – 0
- Acceptance – 3
- Kung Nagkataon – 0
Judge # 4: Cupcake (senior dev naming na naka sick leave, pero online pa din at nagwowork at home)
Nishiboy: Nabasa mo na?
Nishiboy: …?
*Cupcake is Idle*
Nishiboy: Cupcake?
Nishiboy: Still there?
Cupcake: Gusto ko yung pangalawa. Nakakaiyak.
*Cupcake has signed out*
Scores ni Cupcake:
Di na ako naghanap ng panglimang judge.
Nakapili pa din ako ng isasubmit.
At ang aking napili ay…
Wala sa tatlong yan.
Na-realize ko kasing masyadong personal yang mga yan, kaya pumili ako ng iba. Ok din naman yung napili ko.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Another Entry About Blogging
The biggest disadvantage of going public in your blog is you can’t post anything too personal anymore. You have removed the covers and telling details about yourself is shining a spotlight on your nakedness. You will no longer feel comfortable posting about how you still look at your ex’s pictures and get all emo before you go to bed. Or that you met a guy in Malate last Saturday and now you’re texting him but your texts are too lame. Or that you slept with a former date’s friend last Sunday and your right nipple itches and hurts until now.
None of that will be appropriate anymore.
That’s why I’m going to post about something a lot tamer. I’ve been thinking of what to write about, and I remembered this topic that has been tackled by quite a number of bloggers these past weeks. A topic that shows just how vain we bloggers can get.
I am going to blog about…wait for it…blogging.
There are two questions that need to be answered: why do you write in a blog and why do you read blogs.
Incidentally, I found something I wrote three years ago that answers the first question. I wrote it when I made my first blog. For the curious, I made a blog almost three years ago with the title… Hm… I’m not sure but I think it was “Mosquitero”. Anyway, I deleted the blog, since it contained too much relationship angst, but my profile, as I recently discovered, is still alive: http://www.blogger.com/profile/09548666221217563619
Okay, so where was I? Right, the entry. Here it is:
**********************
Until now, I still haven’t come up with a good blog entry (or a good blog, at that). I’ve been having a hard time deciding what I want my blog to be: a form of self-expression, a means of soliciting comfort, or a step towards fame (lol). So far, my entries have been a mixture of those.
At first, I wanted to be a blog sensation. I know someone who used to read the blog of an anonymous author. Every time he surfed, he made it a point to download the author’s latest entry; when he got home, he’d get all giddy from reading the latest scoops on the author’s life. I thought, wow, it must be amazing to have people you don’t even know hooked on your every move.
So I made a blog with the intention of having my own fan base. Soon, however, I realized that a blog like that would require a lot of patience and effort on maintenance and updates. I would also have to possess an incredible amount of charisma, enough for it to leak through text. Unfortunately, I had neither. The second was especially hopeless. How could I hope to interest strangers when even those who know me don’t care? (awww, so sad)
So I decided to just express my thoughts without caring about what the readers (if any) would think (though I still hoped some of them would like my thoughts). From then on, every time I made an entry, I just typed my heart out until I had spilled every last shred of anger, regret, or sometimes, joy. My posts turned out to be fairly interesting, but too long for anyone to bother to read (to bother to read, hmm).
That is why it has been two weeks since my last post. I have not yet come up with a good entry; mostly because I still have no firm idea of a good entry should be like. I am also not sure whether or not anyone still visits my blog.
The good news is, I am starting to form my idea of what a good post should be. I still think that blogs are meant primarily for self-expression, but now I also think that those expressions should be reader-conscious. As a blogger, I don’t just want to pour my heart out; I want people to read my entries and care. Otherwise, I should just put my thoughts in a diary.
Consider this as just another one of my thoughts…
**********************
As for the other question, I’m going to write about it some other time because it’s getting late. And I need to leave because people are already starting to stare at me scratching my nipple.
None of that will be appropriate anymore.
That’s why I’m going to post about something a lot tamer. I’ve been thinking of what to write about, and I remembered this topic that has been tackled by quite a number of bloggers these past weeks. A topic that shows just how vain we bloggers can get.
I am going to blog about…wait for it…blogging.
There are two questions that need to be answered: why do you write in a blog and why do you read blogs.
Incidentally, I found something I wrote three years ago that answers the first question. I wrote it when I made my first blog. For the curious, I made a blog almost three years ago with the title… Hm… I’m not sure but I think it was “Mosquitero”. Anyway, I deleted the blog, since it contained too much relationship angst, but my profile, as I recently discovered, is still alive: http://www.blogger.com/profile/09548666221217563619
Okay, so where was I? Right, the entry. Here it is:
**********************
ENTRY ON ENTRIES
Until now, I still haven’t come up with a good blog entry (or a good blog, at that). I’ve been having a hard time deciding what I want my blog to be: a form of self-expression, a means of soliciting comfort, or a step towards fame (lol). So far, my entries have been a mixture of those.
At first, I wanted to be a blog sensation. I know someone who used to read the blog of an anonymous author. Every time he surfed, he made it a point to download the author’s latest entry; when he got home, he’d get all giddy from reading the latest scoops on the author’s life. I thought, wow, it must be amazing to have people you don’t even know hooked on your every move.
So I made a blog with the intention of having my own fan base. Soon, however, I realized that a blog like that would require a lot of patience and effort on maintenance and updates. I would also have to possess an incredible amount of charisma, enough for it to leak through text. Unfortunately, I had neither. The second was especially hopeless. How could I hope to interest strangers when even those who know me don’t care? (awww, so sad)
So I decided to just express my thoughts without caring about what the readers (if any) would think (though I still hoped some of them would like my thoughts). From then on, every time I made an entry, I just typed my heart out until I had spilled every last shred of anger, regret, or sometimes, joy. My posts turned out to be fairly interesting, but too long for anyone to bother to read (to bother to read, hmm).
That is why it has been two weeks since my last post. I have not yet come up with a good entry; mostly because I still have no firm idea of a good entry should be like. I am also not sure whether or not anyone still visits my blog.
The good news is, I am starting to form my idea of what a good post should be. I still think that blogs are meant primarily for self-expression, but now I also think that those expressions should be reader-conscious. As a blogger, I don’t just want to pour my heart out; I want people to read my entries and care. Otherwise, I should just put my thoughts in a diary.
Consider this as just another one of my thoughts…
**********************
As for the other question, I’m going to write about it some other time because it’s getting late. And I need to leave because people are already starting to stare at me scratching my nipple.
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