Ramblings..

“At any other time I would have raised my objections, but I thought: What’s the point? I have tried to convince practically anyone who would listen that sexual orientation should not be an issue, but apparently the culture here is stronger. I simply turned back to my readings, not out of contempt or resignation, but simply of my decision to do better things with my time…”

- From In Retrospect

“The banca rocked gently on the waves. I dipped my feet in the azure waters, and far down below I can see the corals and seaweeds swaying. The sun shone brightly, but the heat was cooled by the breeze. We were heading home.My knee still bled from where it was scratched. Nearby, a fisherman was catching his lunch. Judging from the tug on his fishing line, it looked like it was going to be a big meal…”

- From One Fine Day

“I took a deep breath. “I will be serving you a Final Warning for absences.” My heart started to pound, I swear she could hear it. Oh dear, I thought- I’m about to fire my first CSR! I heard through the grapevine she was two months pregnant, and this added to my apprehension.“Unfortunately, this effectively disqualifies you for regularization. Sorry Nina, but you are already- ” I squirmed in my seat.“Termed?” She said, looking me in the eye.“Yes!” I sighed with relief…”

- From Transitions

“With strings of fragrant Sampaguita wrapped in plastic on my left hand and a 1,516 page book on my right, I make my way to the waiting area for jeepneys outside the church. Normally, six-thirty pm would still be dusk, with a few faint twinkling of evening stars peeking in the horizon- but not this night. There was a slight drizzle and it was already dark, signaling the start of cold nights and shorter days…”

- From Finals, and Fluctuating Faith

“Moving exams are another story. You are given a minute per specimen, and answer about two to three questions, 50 stations in all. Ding! The bell rings and you move to your microscope or specimen. I try to fight my nervous shaking fingers and try to concentrate on the field of vision as seen in the ocular. Unfortunately, if you will be using the old microscope, hardly any light gets reflected into the lens. You are not allowed to squint (you will be asked to leave), you are not allowed to re-adjust the focus (you will be asked to leave), or talk to voice out your concern (you will be asked to leave). So you suck it up, and try to make sense of what you see. Ding! Move on to the next microscope..”

- From Tumbling!

“My pants are ripping apart. These are an old pair of black slacks I used to wear in the office, once part of my work wardrobe. The first tear began at the crotch, just a tiny bit- you won’t even see it until you look closely. Nanay mended it for me, unfortunately not too subtly, because she used red-colored thread. Now the sides are already splitting in the seams near my right hip. I am troubled. No one wants to do the full monty in a Catholic institution…”

- From Austere Philosophy from an Old Pair of Pants

“I pick up my last ball and take a deep breath. “Whoosh!” I threw it as towards the ring.. and then it misses its mark and lands on the garden patch way outside the court. My cheeks were flaming; I never did so horribly in anything before.

“Two more tries!” The instructor said. I didn’t know if I was going to be happy or insulted that he took pity on me and decided to give me five chances like the girls instead of the three tries for guys.

Reluctantly, I picked up the ball. I really had a bad feeling this wasn’t going to end happily. I said a silent prayer as I tried my luck with this ball. It was off target like the others, and bounced wildly as it landed on the concrete…”

- From Basketball Diary: The First and Final Entry

You are Truly Pinoy if..

Left: We're pinoy and we love to eat!!
1. You eat pancit or spaghetti as “palaman” for your sliced bread.

2. You eat longanisa and dangit with rice for breakfast.

3. Going home from a party, you’d still eat at home because you think dinner’s not dinner unless there’s rice.

4. There’s always tuyo or bagoong on the table. Speaking of which, you also eat green mango with bagoong. (Yum!)

5. You save tissue paper from restaurants and food establishments as “remembrance”.

6. You crave balot late at night.

7. You’ve eaten isaw, adidas, bopis and other assorted chicken parts except the feathers (you’d save that to use as duster or for your headdress, or as part of your anting-anting).
8. Fiestas are big deal to you.

9. You bring pasalubong after each trip.

10. When you were a kid, you played Langit Lupa, Patintero, Holen, Chinese Garter, Piko, and Sato.
11. You’ve added an “h” to your first name. Jhenny, Dhanny.. Well, Thaddeus has the h already, so there’s no need. Or should it be Thhad? Kidding.

12. Your nickname is one syllable repeated. Yanyan, Tintin, etc. Thad-thad? Too much! LOL

13. You say “Tabi po” when you are in the woods, so as not to anger the spirits.

14. You wear t-shirt and shorts (or heaven forbid, long sleeves) while bathing at the beach.

15. You are an expert in haggling. Once, a vendor was selling you an item for Php 20 and you still asked for “tawad”.

16. You use crappy stuff (kitchen utensils, linens, towels) because you only bring out the good ones when there are visitors.

17. You’d give up your bed for your bisita.

As a bonus, you are definitely Waray if you:

Talk loudly all the time, people think you are angry. Tagalogs, Cebuanos- they talk so melodious, not so much with us. But we’re actually quite jolly ; )

You have a relatively short fuse. (Or is it just me?) May pagka “maisog” (matapang? I’m not sure if that’s the exact equivalent Tagalog term).

No one messes with you. Hehe We pinoys definitely got flava!

Radial Symmetry in Orchids and Jellyfish

Haven't had a chance to travel this weekend (was planning to go to Rawis in Basey, Samar) because I had a lot of paperwork to do. I just went outside to our backyard and snapped photos of Mama's orchids. One of them is considered endangered- Vanda sanderiana or commonly called Waling-waling which thrived in the forests of Mindanao. The jellyfish was a photo from my files- I caught them in Marabut and placed them in a glass so I could snap a photo.

A Wishlist

I’m about to turn a year older soon (what?!!) and if I were a kid, I’d be reminding my parents what I want for a present just about now. This time though, I have slightly bigger wishes, and I guess only those up in heaven have the power to give it.

Here they are:

For my Mom and Dad to reconcile.

For my brother to see his son for the first time.

For more fruitful and happy years for my 81 year old grandmother.
For Gavin to grow up to be healthy.
And for me to have the strength to face my day to day tasks and challenges.

If it’s not too much to ask Lord, I’d be extremely be grateful if you’d give me a *********. Hahaha! = )

Basketball Diary: The First and Final Entry

The ball bounced repeatedly on the pavement as one of my mates dribbled it effortlessly before throwing the ball towards the basket is a seemingly fluid motion. “Two points!” Someone yelled. It was eight in the morning, and I’m sweating in my blue jogging pants and T-shirt. I was dreading this day: practical exam for basketball.

“For the girls, they get five tries on the free throw line. You get a grade of 1.0 if you manage to shoot at least 4 balls. Minus .5 every time you miss one, and if you only shoot one ball out of five tries you get 2.5, if none then you get 3.0” The burly instructor said.

“For the boys, you will get only three tries. You get an automatic 1.0 if you shoot all the balls from the 3 point line. 1.5 for two, and 2.0 for a single shot. If none, then you get a 3.0”

“Great.” I said sarcastically under my breath. I never really got into sports (I was tiny and skinny when I was younger so I never bothered), though I can be athletic when I want to. The problem was that as much as I enjoyed swimming and hiking, team sports were never really my thing. I decided to stay on the sidelines, hoping to be invisible for the day.

They started with the girls, calling names one by one. By the time the last girl was called, I was feeling nauseous. As they started calling the boy’s names I thought I was going to throw up. I tried to look nonchalant, as I sat with the girls on the bleachers, wiping the cold sweat off my forehead.

“Hinunangan!” I heard my name being called, and I walked slowly toward the center of the court. My heart pounded.

“Ok start!” With shaky hands, I lift the oversize orange ball and threw it in the air. I heard snickers from the guys as it barely grazed the ring. “You can do this!” I told myself, “C’mon Thad, you do well on almost anything you set your mind to.”

I relaxed a bit. I dribbled the second ball and tried to make the three points. “Thump!” The ball hit the wooden board way above the ring. Off base, again.

One of the guys tried coaching me. “Do this, do that. Use your other hand to support the ball while the other one pushes.” My sweat seemed to be pouring buckets. My cheeks were red, not from the heat or the sunlight, but from humiliation.

I pick up my last ball and take a deep breath. “Whoosh!” I threw it as towards the ring.. and then it misses its mark and lands on the garden patch way outside the court. My cheeks were flaming; I never did so horribly in anything before.

“Two more tries!” The instructor said. I didn’t know if I was going to be happy or insulted that he took pity on me and decided to give me five chances like the girls instead of the three tries for guys.

Reluctantly, I picked up the ball. I really had a bad feeling this wasn’t going to end happily. I said a silent prayer as I tried my luck with this ball. It was off target like the others, and bounced wildly as it landed on the concrete.

“Last ball.” I pick it up for my last desperate attempt. Things seemed to happen in slow motion as the ball left my hands as I threw it upwards towards the ring. You would think on my fifth try, I’d at least get one… Didn’t happen!

I watched in dismay as it hit the edge of the ring and bounced off. “There goes my last shred of self esteem.” I muttered. As I walk towards the wooden bleachers, I saw the instructor mark the space opposite my name: 3.0.

Untitled

Austere Philosophy from an Old Pair of Pants

My pants are ripping apart. These are an old pair of black slacks I used to wear in the office, once part of my work wardrobe. The first tear began at the crotch, just a tiny bit- you won’t even see it until you look closely. Nanay mended it for me, unfortunately not too subtly, because she used red-colored thread. Now the sides are already splitting in the seams near my right hip. I am troubled. No one wants to do the full monty in a Catholic institution.

These are the only black pants I wear with my uniform. I know I should have bought perhaps another pair, but back when I enrolled last year- it was almost a spur of the moment decision for me, thus I wasn’t really sure I’d pursue it. So from June of 2006, I would wear this pair from Monday to Saturday, washing it on Wednesday and Sunday nights and hanging it to dry at the back of the fridge so I can wear it again the next day. It never occurred to me to buy another pair; and even now, more than a year later. I thought to myself- God willing, if I make it to Level 3 I would be wearing the all-white uniform anyway, since we would be mostly stationed at the assigned hospital.

You are probably shaking your head, saying “Let it go! Buy two pairs!” Maybe I’m just a sentimental schmuck, but like the thought that these old pair have gone with me through the long haul of a career change. I like the fact that they have endured the wears and tears and have maximized their use.

I used to be a clotheshorse back in the days. I spent a chunk of my wages buying outfits (these pants were actually one half of my favorite black suit) and I loved being dressed up for work, especially when executives from our big clients would visit the office. I still have those clothes, tucked away in a locked suitcase and smelling of mothballs. Would they still look good on me? I often wondered.

Like the past slowly dissolving, all of my things from work have deteriorated through time. I’m a little pissed, and maybe a little sad about it- but I’m having the time of my life with all my current adventures. I mostly dress down now, since there are no client meetings to go to or interviews- just going to school and traveling around the province. I’m content, I really am. Happy that at last I’ve looked beyond the material gauge of success- it’s a life lesson learned.

BLOGWATCH: Coconuter

One of the first things that struck me upon reading his blog was a sort of parallelism that I saw in his life to mine. We are both on a journey, though moving in opposite directions. David had a point when he said in his introduction “Almost every Filipino wants to get out of the Philippines”, but I would want to stress on almost- because not everyone here wants to “run away from a diseased third world country”. I could elaborate on it further, but I would digress.

Few people would actually go out and do something radical with their lives to find meaning- and for that I applaud him. For a Filipino-American with an impressive resume, it can almost be perceived as “crazy” for him to leave the comfortable life behind to embark on a journey to find his roots.

His blog tells of his travels, ideas, and experiences. There are a lot of photos (some of them quite good) and poignant narratives. Did he finally find what he was searching for? I’ll definitely stick around to see how his journey turns out. Click here to view his site.

Finals, and Fluctuating Faith

With strings of fragrant Sampaguita wrapped in plastic on my left hand and a 1,516 page book on my right, I make my way to the waiting area for jeepneys outside the church. Normally, six-thirty pm would still be dusk, with a few faint twinkling of evening stars peeking in the horizon- but not this night. There was a slight drizzle and it was already dark, signaling the start of cold nights and shorter days.

As I sat quietly in the corner, I was oblivious to the chatter of high school girls to my front, and a loud lady beside me. My forehead wrinkled as I think of the days to come. Since the start of the month of September, the word hectic would be an understatement. Each day of the month was a struggle to accomplish reports, research papers, quizzes, unit tests, practical tests, and return demonstrations. My convoluted, panicky mind is usually soothed after hearing mass but the enormous pressure of the approaching finals was still lurking.

I’d gotten a 1.68 GWA for the midterms, which can be viewed two ways: 1. I’ve already had a good start for the semester, so my final grades would not be that much of a problem, or 2. the second half of the semester would be my last chance to improve. Unfortunately, my thinking is leaning towards the latter. The minimum GWA required for good standing (read: the grade required for a student to be retained, any lower than that you’d be eliminated) is 2.2, academic honors on the other hand start with at least 1.75 GWA for a Cum Laude. Whether it’s just my competitive nature, or I just wanted to dedicate honors to my folks, if ever- I’ve set my standards just a bit higher.

I seriously envy other students who act without a care in the world. We once had a 30-item quiz in a 4 unit course, wherein quizzes comprise 20% of the final grade- the male student’s paper I checked unfortunately got only a total of 2 points out of the entire quiz. I contemplated on how to break the dismal news, but as it turned out he just shrugged it off. Minutes after dismissal, he and his buddies were out playing ping-pong. Had I been the one who had a low score, it would have haunted me even in my sleep that night. Quizzes may just be quizzes, but added up they could pull the final grade either way.

The problem is that no matter how prepared I am I still don’t trust myself. Is it enough? I would usually wonder. Return demonstrations are usually pending disasters, especially when nervousness gets the better of me. In an effort to do everything perfectly, I would miss doing the simplest steps. In the direst situations when I am completely unprepared, I can only pray that I’d at least pass- and, somehow this turns out surprising results.

Once, I was in the OR with my father on the operating table for his Colonoscopy (prior to his Hemoroidoctomy). I had a unit exam in Bioethics scheduled at 1pm, and it was past twelve noon already. I was not able to read even a single text because Papa had been admitted since that weekend, and I was at his bedside the whole time.

I excused myself and ran to the hospital room and changed into my uniform. I arrived just in time in school, panting and thinking: “Lord, I’ve tried to do what’s right and I tried my best to attend to important things. You know I’ve been tending to Papa the whole time, please help me. I trust you.”

Later that week, our professor announced the results: I had gotten the highest score (91%) in the class, and the one following me got 86%. I said a silent prayer of thanks. I guess sometimes, we just need to do the best we can and trust God that everything will be alright.

As for the finals? I feel a little calmer, now that I got to reflect on it. Presently, I close my eyes and relax my shoulders, with a trace of smile on my face.

In Color..

The Altar
Christ's Passion
A Quiet Moment in Prayer
Agnes and Baby Gavin
(Note:the church photos were taken at Sto. Nino Church in Tacloban)

Behind the Lens

She sits in the middle of a mangrove forest. Her branches look crooked and tired; this old tree bends humbly at the foot of the mountain. I lift my camera and click once, to pay homage before she succumbs to decay.

Busay is Waray for waterfall. After two unsuccessful attempts in searching for one near Tacloban, I finally happened upon Kandongos. It appeared like an apparition; and although the water was not as voluminous as it should have been (it had been a dry week, and the water was barely trickling) the sound of water was music to the ears. Walking kilometer after kilometer in the middle of nowhere does pay off.

Caibaan. Babatngon. Kandongos.

Landscape shots- Babatngon, Leyte

Stories

I started off on the wrong foot. I arrived, meticulously packed (first aid kit, check! change of clothes, check! food and water, check! kikay kit, check!) and an hour late. The assembly place was empty because everyone had left. Determined not to put my efforts to waste, I persuaded one of the senior members at the club to hitch me a ride. I gracelessly rode the back of his motorcycle (with my 10 ton backpack swaying from side to side and bringing my body with it), praying I won’t fall and get run over by the ten wheeler trying to overtake us.

-From City Girl Gets Trapped in the Boondocks with Unattractive Men

The “Katrina”
He has more sexual conquests than the maximum number of permutations of a ten digit electronic raffle. Ilan yon? Hmmm nPr= 3,628,800. Ibang level na ito. If you feel an itch somewhere have it checked pronto! Di 'yan sign ng paparating na pera gagah!

-From the article Six Guys to Avoid

“Your place?” I smiled, suddenly shy. With the slightest movement he brushes his hand on my arm, I look and him and I knew, we weren’t gonna make it to his place, it had to happen now. The next thing I know my hands were fumbling with his belt, trying to get Junior out, much to his delight. He stepped on the gas pedal as the traffic lights turned green. And then I did something I will never, ever forget as long as I live- I brought my head down and made him the happiest guy on the highway.

- From Dunkin Donuts and Fastlove

Straight guys simply just have an assumption that they are “pogi” regardless of how they actually look. Yes it’s stupid, but true. And it works- on girls and even on us. I doubt if they have self-esteem issues like females do. And maybe that’s what girls look for- a guy who can take care of them, who is sure of himself and one who lacks insecurities. For our people, I’m pretty sure they are looking for someone who is less fussy than they are. How do I know? Reliable sources told me some PLUs in school had a crush on me prior to coming out. As soon as my “straight image” faded, so did the glances. I thought: I can never tell for sure if my theory is correct, so I’ll test it.

- From The X Factor

Mahal, still tipsy, was still worried about the challenge. She still has no clue what to bring the next day. She looked over at Mystica who was sleeping spread-eagled. “Aha! Alam ko na!” She crawls over to Mystica and suddenly thrusts her chubby hands between the hostess’s legs, intending to take out the “placenta”. “AAAAeeeeeee!” The whole room awakens. Mystica, outraged, whipped out her talons and dismembers poor Mahal.

Selena tries to save her friend but Mystica’s claws were already on her throat. Madame Auring throws her body at Mystica and Selena but the sheer impact brought shockwaves that damaged the flat’s roof. The whole building caves in and with this Cycle 2 ends.

- From Wanna be on Top? PNTM Cycle 2

The wind was cold on my cheeks as we walked towards the beach. I had taken my shirt off in the bar, but I was too drunk to care about going back and retrieving it.
Yuri's hand was warm and I locked my fingers and leaned close to him. We were silent, and I could only hear the music faintly thumping from the bars a distance away.
He gestures and we sit on the sand. I could only see the light of the moon reflecting in those eyes. My thoughts were wrapped in a cloud that floated lazily in my mind. It seemed things moved in slow motion to me. I turned to look at his face as I placed my hand on the buckle of his belt.

- From The Look of Love

“Talaga Boss?” He smiles with those teasing lips, and his chinito eyes get even chinkier.

Thad 2: “Sheeeet ate, ‘di ko na kaya to! Love ko na sya! I love you, Jon!”

I try to focus my thoughts. Talk about his performance; stop looking at his crotch, you fool!

“Yes, I really think you have potential to be one of the leaders in the group. With consistent good performance, I bet a promotion is just around the corner.”

I blabber some more as I sit there drinking the sights. With his ego pumped up, he sat straighter. Nice shoulders, I thought.

Thad 1: “Stop looking at him like he’s meat, perv.”

Thad 2: “Girl, hawakan mo ang kamay!!”

“I’m really impressed.” I say, and then I softly pat his arm. “How did you find the experience finally taking live calls on the floor?” I asked, blinking my eyes flirtatiously.

- From Konsensya

I tucked my legs inside the comforter. “Can I ask a question?” I said.

“What is it?”

“What does God think about gay people?”

He pauses for a moment. “He never really told us.”

“Can I ask another question?”

- From A Conversation with An Angel

Look in the archives or type the keywords in the Search Blog box in the Navi bar, or simply click the titles to see the full versions. More stories to come!

Thad's Take on Women

I love women. All my best friends were biologically female, except for Nathan, who was female only “on the inside”. They are great companions- out to lunch, night outs, and practically in any occasion where I want to just let my hair down.

They do have a few quirks, and what better way to explain these than to give an example: an afternoon of shopping with a female friend.

Enter C. (she wants to remain anonymous), one of my frequent companions back in the office. It was days before the company’s third anniversary, and she asked me to accompany her to Glorietta to buy shoes. Thinking I’ll have a boring afternoon at my place, I agreed- and as it turned out, I got more than I bargained for.

C: “Thadie (she was the one who coined my nickname), do you like the red one or that white stiletto?”

Thad: “I love the red one with the delicate straps. The white one has too much going on with rhinestones and all.. What dress will you be wearing?”

C: “Something slinky. I’m not sure about this yet. Let’s look someplace else.”

Thad (exhaling): “This is the fourth store we’ve been to and the shoes you’ve picked earlier were fine. Basta, make your choice na, I’m getting hungry.”

C: “Sige na.. Lunch is on me! Pretty please?”

We stepped out of the store, leaving three boxes of the shoes she tried on, and headed to the next store. Suddenly, she sees a dress “perfect for the red carpet” as we pass by a boutique.

C: “Tara, I’ll try it on. It looks classy and funky at the same time!”

Thad: (grunts)

She ends up trying on four dresses, and settled on a red, low cut dress. She looked sensational as she stepped out of the dressing room, putting her hair up and trying to decide how she’ll wear her hair. He boobs were practically peeking out, but I was disinterested.

Thad: “Off to lunch!”

C: “Thadie, earrings na lang. I know a perfect place. Tapos we can have lunch, then we can find the perfect shoes to go with the dress!”

As soon as the food arrived, I chowed down without talking. We were seated at a corner in Fridays.

C: “Thadie, have you heard? J is going out with B! She just waited for B to break up with his girlfriend so she can date him.

Thad: “Well, it’s her life anyway.”

C: “Pero ka-cheapan!”

Thad: “Bahala sila sa buhay nila.”

As if on queue, J, hand in hand with B walks in. My friend pokes me in the rib.

J: “C! Thad! Nice to see you guys!”

I smile politely and greeted them both. My friend shows off the dress she bought and chats with J like she’s her bestfriend. The sneakiness astounded me, both women chatted nonchalantly, with their claws probably hidden from each other. It could have been a scene from Melrose Place.

I got home that evening and dropped on my couch, exhausted from the afternoon’s histrionics. I felt like some straight guy who just had a date with his girl, minus the intimacy (yikes!). Still, my friend, like all women has those endearing qualities which I like- she can be strong, kind at times, and incredibly sweet.

I really do love women, but not beyond the friend zone.

Portraits 1

In Retrospect..

It’s been four months since I came out, and I thought it would be interesting to note the changes that occurred, if at all there were any. Like a bright-eyed sophomore, I anticipated that my move would change the way people would see me, and how they perceive gay people in general.

For the first two months of the present semester I was met by a variety of reactions, from shock, to disgust, to indifference, and eventually acceptance. The word about my blog reached the ears of some of the faculty members; this bit of information I learned from my Anatomy teacher (after which I hurried home and removed my risqué hot men pictures). I was even indulged in a discourse with my Theology professor who insisted in seeing me, partly because she wanted to know how I was doing, and partly because she was curious of how I felt last semester during her discussions on books like Leviticus which denounce homosexuality.

After some objectionable episodes happened in the classroom, I was hoping that my articles about gay life that were published would make an impact to people. The question remains: were there any changes in people’s perceptions at all?

Just yesterday this happened: Instructor 1 was discussing the mechanics of the next PRS (bed bathing and effleurage). Instructor 2 asks: “Sir, what about those people who belong to the third sex? Are they going to be partnered with their other classmates?

At any other time I would have raised my objections, but I thought: What’s the point? I have tried to convince practically anyone who would listen that sexual orientation should not be an issue, but apparently the culture here is stronger. I simply turned back to my readings, not out of contempt or resignation, but simply of my decision to do better things with my time.

Third sex, bayot- the words meant to refer to and debase gay people no longer conjure any feelings of indignation in me. Though I still believe people’s attitudes may change- I also know it won’t happen overnight. The say you can’t control how other people would feel or act; you can only control yourself. I guess I did change, I’ve learned to focus my energies on doing something constructive, instead of engaging in pointless debates and discussions. For now, that will do.

Visit From an old Friend

The air conditioning was cold, and it felt like I was in the Arctic. We were at the last full show of Transformers in Megamall. Josh was on my right, and to my left my twin sis Tatat. We were seated too close to the screen (Tatat insisted, because she was nearsighted), and the images on the screen to me was gigantic and distorted. Probably because I was half-asleep.. or was I drunk? No, that happened later.

The faces of the blue-eyed actress and the cute nerdy guy swirled in my half-conscious state. The graphics were spectacular, but it was hardly enough to lift my eyelids. My hands were inside my T-shirt (I usually do this when I have no jacket and I’m extremely cold), and while my limbs were warmed by my torso, a few tendrils of cold still bit my leg. It was a bad time to wear shorts.

At last the movie was finished. We made our way to the exits hurriedly as we were to meet up with a few more friends before we head to Tat’s apartment. The strangest thing- it had been almost three years since Tat and I were together, since the time I transferred to the US track and after that deciding to quit and study, but it was as if those years had never been.

Nothing changed (except maybe that she gained a little weight, but heck, so did I!). I saw her breezing through the doors and it was as if we saw each other just the other day. It’s hard to explain- you know this feeling like when you left home to study in another place, then you come back after four years and the moment you step inside- it’s home! Familiar, warm, and comfortable. You are your old self again, and if there are any adjustments, it just takes seconds to get used to it.

We never run out of stories. From gossip- who’s dating who, who’s sleeping with who, who got the boot- to reminiscing (“Remember that guy I used to date...”), to new experiences, and more gossip. Perhaps it’s a sign of lasting friendship- that genuine fondness for each other, which no amount of separation could tarnish.

As I sit across from her, as she gestures while she’s talking (and waving a lit cigarette in her hand), I wonder- would we still be friends when we’re sixty? I’d bet on it.

In Black and White

From a Father to his Son

I’ve always wondered what it’d be like
To have a son who would ride a bike,
Stay in the sun and play all day.
Tell me, will he also like the bay?

What joy it would be,
To see a little guy who looks like me.
Will he like to paint?
Or write stories without restraint?

To see those tiny hands,
Clap and beat like marching bands.
To hear that laugh and squeals of delight,
Just before I tuck you in at night.

Sleep tight little tyke, and dream if you can,
You’ve turned your Dad into a better man.

Casio Exilim Pro

If there's anything I'd constantly tag along my travels, its my Casio Exilim Pro (they're not paying me for this, by the way; ) It was my first extravagant purchase last 2005- priced at around Php 21,000. I prayed it would be a wise purchase, since my hard-earned cash savings took a big hit.

-

Two years later, I confirmed that it was indeed worth every penny. I won't go over the technical mumbo-jumbo, but if you do want to check it out you can click here. I'm obviously an amateur since I never really studied photography, but nevertheless I remain a devotee. This compact camera offer manual controls- you can tweak ISO sensitivity, sharpness, saturation, and metering modes. Up to now, I still have not fully explored what it can do.

-

What amazes me the most is its durability. Picture this: I'm rapelling down a cave in Sagada, and my Casio gets slammed periodically in the rocks. Clunk! Clunk! Clunk! A few minutes later, I take pictures of the stalactite formations effortlessly. One time, I fell of a banca in Marabut. The cam was inside my backpack which was strapped to my back, as soon as I saw sand I hopped of the banca and.. splash! I was in waist-deep water and my backpack took a dive. Good thing the case I bought was water-resistant and though it was damp, my camera was still functioning. Up the mountains, down rivers, and every imaginable terrain- here's to two years of great photographs.

-

I've captured lots of moments, thanks to this baby (My Casio). And now I get to watch this baby (my nephew Gavin) grow up. Sagada
The Virgin Mother in Pasig Church
Guiuan
Nanay's 81st birthday

Marabut
At 30,000 feet
Here he is..

Metro Abodes

Or as I fondly call them, some of the crappy places I’ve lived in. Being on my own for the first time had its quirks, but it sure was a lot of fun.

Inside the Campus

Obviously all the slots would be filled in all the dorms two days before classes start, so I had to look for other alternatives. My father accompanied me as we searched for boarding houses. One was in Philcoa (too warm), one near the Fine Arts building (too crowded), one in Area 2 (too expensive), and the last one in Kristong Hari, where I finally set in. I would spend many sleepless nights working on architectural plates and pouring over books in the tiny room I had. Oh, and let’s not forget the beauty disasters that occurred as I experimented in the privacy of my new home.

In the all-guys boarding house in Kristong Hari, there was one guy who walked around in his undies all the time (not bad-looking, mind you). He was a law student, and he shared the room with his equally hot Moreno kuya. The son of the landlord would always invite me to their Friday night booze fest. I remember one time when I went to the kitchen for water in the fridge, he drunkenly invited me with slurred words, and surprise of surprises, he reached over and pinched my nipple.

Krus na Ligas

I was already working on my thesis when I transferred to KNL. By this time I had pretty much lived in almost all areas inside the campus, so I chose KNL since it was already outside the campus and there was 24 hour transportation.

I can only remember a particular incident while I lived here- it was 11:30 and I just left an internet café. On my way home, I noticed this emaciated man holding something in his hand walking towards me. I just kept on walking (he was muttering to himself); it was only after about 5 meters walking past him did I realize he was carrying a long bolo. I practically flew the rest of the distance to my boarding house. My landlady later told me there was this crazy person roaming the streets at night. Gee, thanks for the warning.


Boni

When I started working, the commute from Diliman to Makati was punishing so I decided to move closer to where I worked. Our schedule was so merciless that I would just black out on the bus ride home, and suddenly wake up to find out that I’m already in Fairview!

I found a decent place in Boni (very close to EDSA), and quite enjoyed my new found freedom. I had started dating and doing all sorts of “kababalaghan” at this point.

Makati

An officemate invited me and my bestfriend to share her apartment in Makati. We both were excited to finally live in a real house, and didn’t really mind sleeping on a mattress on the floor so we said yes.

Months later, Brenda (a nickname we call our former friend, meaning “brain damaged”) asked Tatat and I to leave. Yes, you heard me right. Pinalayas kami nung Holy Week, Holy Thursday I think. Apparently Tatat dressed like a hooker at home (short shorts, tank top) so Paranoid Brenda was worried her boyfriend (a med student) was being seduced.

So my twin sis and I moved from one friend’s house to another like wandering Jews, till we finally searched for our respective boarding houses. But mind you we still had perfect attendance at work when this thing happened.

Dapitan

Why would I live close to UST? Ah I remember now, my drinking buddies lived in the area. They said I could live there till I found a place. All that remained in my memory was how the place flooded when it rained.

One fateful day in July, I got promoted and so I packed my bags, thanked my buddies, and searched for my new home.

Makati

When I got my first 50K paycheck for two weeks worth of work and prorated salary increase, the first thing I did was search for a nice place near work. In Tejeros, Makati I found the place: one bedroom, furnished, with security.

Before my father and brothers left for the US, they stayed at my place. Probably one of my fondest memories since I rarely got to spend time with my brothers since I studied in Diliman.

I moved to another building a year later. One of the joys was designing my place (the second apartment was unfurnished). I busied myself buying furniture, appliances, curtains, and carpets.

I was mostly in the evening shift, and before I prepared for work, I’d always take a moment to look out the big window in the sala, and just admire the view of the skyline.

One Fine Day

I flailed my limbs wildly this way and that. This describes my “technique” in diving for lato (an edible, succulent green seaweed). They were lodged in rock crevices among the corals and were quite easy to pick- that is if you can move underwater with ease.

This was my first time with real fishermen, and my diving and swimming spelled a-m-a-t-e-u-r to them. Oh well. I ended up scraping my knee on corals, it didn’t hurt that much (I only noticed it when I got back into the banca). For some reason the seawater acted like an anesthetic and antiseptic, so despite the blood gushing I wasn’t fazed. We moved to the nearby islet.
--------------------------------------------

I sat under the shade of the rocks, and was having lunch with my friends. The fishermen were going to pick us up in two hours while we frolicked in the islet. I pick up a rambutan from the basket, cracked it open and bit on the white meat.

It was sweet, so I picked up another one. And then I noticed something a bit off with the taste, so I held the fruit against the light. Ugh, I had eaten part of a tiny insect. In true Fear Factor fashion, I continued chewing and swallowed in a big gulp. What the hell, I can cross that out in my “Things I want to do before I turn 30” list.

-------------------------------------------
The banca rocked gently on the waves. I dipped my feet in the azure waters, and far down below I can see the corals and seaweeds swaying. The sun shone brightly, but the heat was cooled by the breeze. We were heading home.

My knee still bled from where it was scratched. Nearby, a fisherman was catching his lunch. Judging from the tug on his fishing line, it looked like it was going to be a big meal.

Another fine day in Samar, and I enjoyed myself tremendously. Now I have to add “buy banca” to my list.

Butt, of course..

The most advaced research reveals that the cure for writer's block is...

"Un-Chekhov"

I learned three things today:

1. Anton Chekhov was probably one of the best short story writers ever.
2. You can’t compose a short story in a day (more so if you lack inspiration!).
3. Starting a new blog is a lot harder than continuing an old one.

I barely finished Anton Chekhov’s The Shoemaker and The Devil, when I found myself nodding. The handout was probably correct; reading the works of this Russian dramatist can teach one more about short story writing than any creative writing professor. Engaging and imaginative, I guess the appeal of his writings lie also in its ability to speak to a wide audience.

In between return demos, trips to hospitals (for research purposes), trips to the seminary (for Christology research), trips to Samar (for the beaches!), worksheets, quizzes, and long exams, I tried to squeeze in a day this week allotted to writing a short story for Lit. Sounds like a great plan, until you have writer’s block. Not fun. You twist and turn, walk back and forth, binge on anything you can chow down, you decide to sit and just “get it over with”. As soon as you position your pen over your paper- nothing. Can I just use the stories I already made? Nope, I already gave the exposition of the story I was supposed to write (which turned out one of those stories I never finish). Damn!

New account, check! Header, check! Concept, check! It sounded exciting to get the ball rolling, but as I tried to get a widget for the new blog, I realized other tasks that need to be accomplished. Templates, label clouds, counters, links.. The list goes on and on. I decided the easier thing to do was to just stick with the old one.

I think most bloggers go through that phase of “uncertainty” (Where is this going? How will this turn out? What if I try this?). It could be boredom, the lack of ideas, tired of critiques from wannabe critics, or simply just lack the time- whatever the reason, it certainly allows one to reevaluate the motives of blogging. With renewed clarity, I turned on my laptop to make this entry. Perhaps the idea for the short story will surface soon enough.. I’ll let you know.

Metanoia: The Metamorphosis

Metanoia is a Greek word which means “a change of mind”. It entails a complete shift in perspective- a change of goals, attitudes, and assumptions in life. As I start a new chapter, it is time to close the door to seasons that have passed.

I will be starting a new blog (though I won’t be putting a period on The Emancipation), and hope to see you there ; ) Click on this link.