Instead of dilly-dallying on how to sell yourself in the “best image” imaginable, just went brutally honest and get on with it. I am even not a good writer in Filipino, so I opted to write in english / taglish instead.
29 November 2025
Dear Ricky Lee and the Workshop working team,
I wish to attend the workshop because I want to learn about scriptwriting and the best practices to apply the life experiences through the script. So far, I am only able to creatively write these sensibilities through the essays I publish in my personal blog, and do some letter-writing to an imaginary person to expand whatever I have in my mind.
In addition, I want expand my social capital and finally, advocate for myself.
You see, I may be a straight woman, but with the current trends of social political climate and men being asses, I desire a “lavender relationship” — a woman being committed to a gay man. Kahit manlalaki pa sya sa labas, ang mahalaga, sa akin uuwi. At pareho naming pagkukwentuhan kung bakit ang gagago ng mga kapwa lalaki sa panahon ngayon. I do have a goal in mind since my 39th birthday, and aside from submitting this entry, is to write to Marvin Agustin and introduce myself, offering whatever I have as a self-sustaining middle class corporate slave, and finally take a step to get to know the creative people behind the show business and expand my network and tackle the desires of my heart.
Wala kasing ganito sa corporate. Lahat gusto kang anakan.
And maybe this is way beyond the usual reasons for applying to your workshop, I do want to gain experience and networks to finally having this creative pursuit as a retirement career from the daily corporate grind of being a Fund Accountant.
Thank you for considering my application.
Yours truly,
MARIA ELLA BETOS, CPA
Then I attached my Creative Nonfiction about my hike in Mt. Pulag and kind of let them what I know about writing. But then again, the letter of intent is as polarizing as my romantic POV in that essay of seeing that happiest thing happened to date. Wala pa ring tatalo sa isang kilo ng bigas. Kung meron man, it will be that black credit card (and that needs to be written as another entry, but I can’t. Because if I write about it, I don’t own that happy story anymore… it will be the world’s.)
I was not able to deliver it at the second day due to the challenges: People are dropping by only for a short while, or photojournals are being pushed first, or panelists trying to leave the workshop as soon as we ended the deliberations proper.
The resolution proposed: Publish this as part of a Newsletter for Scholastic Organizations and for other consumption.
Sa mga fellows ngayong taon, pagbati! Kayo ang naging saksi kung paano gusto naming mga 2024 fellows mangyari ang isang workshop. Nakikita ninyo ang iba’t ibang serye ng pagpapadaloy, ang pagsagwan ng iba’t-ibang kwento, samu’t saring pagkakatagpi ng mga buntung-hininga, at mga ngiting nagsasama-sama.
Batid natin na may mga reunion nang naganap sa inyo, pero mas marami pa rin ang bagito. Sa 89 kataong nagpasa ngayong taon, pinili kayo ng komite hindi lamang dahil may malaking potensyal ang akda, kundi dahil may kakayahan kayong kumarga ng isang malaking misyon: maging Adhika ng Giting sa Obra at Sining ng Pasig. Sabi nga ni Yasmien ng RTU-KAMFIL, “Miss Ella, takam na takam kami sa workshop. Ang meron kasi sa amin, puro seminar, puro mula sa speaker, hindi nasisipat ang ambag naming mga kwento.” Mula sa sumbong niyang iyon, mas nagiging buo ang kagustuhang tugunan ito sa pamamagitan ng AGOS ng Pasig. Na sana, maging mas aktibo ang palihan at palitan ng kuru-kuro sa pagkatha, at maging mas accessible ito sa mismong mga kababayan natin, hindi lamang nakapaloob sa mga State University at sa mga pribadong organisasyon. Ilapat natin ang de-kalidad na palihan para sa masa.
Sa kabila ng maraming pagbabago sa mga asignatura sa eskwelahan, at mataas na krisis ng pagbabasa at pagkatha, salihan pa ng pagsasa-pribado ng ibang mga karapat-dapat na pampublikong espasyo, binuo ang grupong ito na handang sumuong at sumagwan sa mga alon na tila mahirap labanan kapag ika’y nag-iisa. We must call the institutions of our city to help: Magpakilala sa mga barangay, sa mga paaralan, at sa mga ahensya ng ating pamahalaan. Sa kapatiran, pwede tayong magbigay ng lakas at inspirasyon sa mga natutuyong batis sa mga sulok, at idugtong ito sa kalakhang katubigan ng mga magagandang katha na buhuhay sa ating tila natutulog at mala-robot na pagkatao ng ating lungsod. I imagine ourselves boarding a newer version of Bapor Tabo (from Noli Me Tangere), handang dumaloy sa kalakhang Ilog Pasig, nagpapalaganap ng kagandahan ng mga kwentong sariling atin, habang naglilinis ng mga waterlily sa gedli! Haha, charing!
Ang aking munting pakiusap sa mga 2025 fellows ay maging handang tumulong sa anumang paraan: maging susunod na workshop director, o maging coordinator sa iba’t ibang publikasyon, o kahit maging munting sagwan sa aming AGOS Creatives. Bawat ambag, mahalaga. Huwag mahihiyang tumulong sa anuma’t anumang pagkakataon. Mas kailangan namin ito lalo na ngayong gusto nating umugong ang ating panawagan na ipaabot sa masa ang ating adhika.
Mula sa inyong Pangulo, tara tena! Tayong lahat ay magsama-sama sa pagkilos. Padayon sa Pagpapadaloy! Mabuhay ang Adhika ng Giting sa Obra at Sining ng Pasig!
Last 22nd March, the Pinoy Reads Pinoy Books (PRPB) discussed Kaisa’s debut novel Isabela. To celebrate the Women’s month, #AbanteBabae was reinforced with a woman writer and a woman moderator tackling the heavy prose of the book; it’s fragmented realities and lost histories, together with the involvement of women in the movement, either directly or indirectly. Sheltered in the safe space of Quezon City Public Library, we made the discussion more friendly through the banters and jests, inviting the attendees to interject or ask follow-up questions as we go along the discussions.
We opened the BT with the introduction of everyone, knowing their names and their current activities, and who are their favorite Women Writers. Even though we are of less than 20 attendees, I was amazed that we have cited many women writers, echoing their contributions to the rich landscape of the Pinoy literary.
Kaisa, a profound Filipino word meaning “one with”, confessed that she is a 90’s kid, She explained that her name is merely a combination of two provinces — Cagayan and Isabela. With her name demystified, we also asked on how the interweaving stories came into life and how it was also blended together, crafting a composite novel from her years in her graduate school. “Thesis lang naman talaga ito eh,” she mentioned, but after the 7 years of writing grind and multiple workshops, she gave birth a tale of different women from the iterations of Isabela, overarching the theme of her hometown and its proximity from the three decades of insurgency in the countryside.
One of the questions I asked was “women and wounds”, and how Isabela’s multiple iterations received all forms of wounds — from a literal bullet, to the disappearances, to the loss of a husband, of a son, and of a father — and how they carry it through time, while coping and healing through different means. As a reader, I felt the heaviness of the prose. They carry the wounds and they keep on moving, continuing on the search and meaning, may it be a run for survival (from the military), a search for an alternative healing (tawa-tawa leaves) and a trail to summit (to see the purple hydrangeas). I even told Kaisa, “Sana ako na lang ang nasusugatan… kasi parang ang bigat na.” She answered back, “Ella, hindi ka ba nasusugatan?” Her reverse card question made me realize that I am also very much a wounded woman who soldiers on, the same with the characters in the novel.
Aside from the questions of themes, the winding narratives, and the execution of prose, the members also shared their reading experiences. CL mentioned how the multitude of characters and iterations were effectively executed. Kwesi asked about redefining the work from his first impression that Isabela is a collection of short stories. Jaffy digressed that maybe the novel is a proposed reality from the current socio-political climate we are in. Jayson shares that he sees the sentiments of regrets and its fragmented stories of struggle. Lawrence apologizingly confessed that he found the open-ended endings of each chapter difficult to ingest, a journey very challenging to trek because of the shifts of the point-of-view and genre of realism and magical realism. I guess his reading experience feels like a tiring hike, its summit filled with fog. Meanwhile, my reading experience feels like away from the mountains. I shared the metaphor of anchorage and voyage via the novel’s prologue and ending; a ship lifting its anchors (the norms imposed on women), readying itself for another journey (of going home).
Miss Thelma, a retired teacher and a guest of our Book Talakayan, did not ask Kaisa any questions about the latter’s craft and poetics, but thanked her instead. She was grateful that someone has written about her province. In her mellow voice, she told us that their shared hometown is filled with stories of beauty and activism and after a long time, Kaisa was able to put them in paper.
The final question came from Rikkimar, a PNU student. “Paano natin mailalapit ang akda sa mga taong malayo sa danas ng nasa libro?” To which Billy jokingly answered, “Eh di ipabasa mo.” And I believe Kaisa agreed, because one way to reach the other’s heart is through a shared experience and building through a community of reading.
I ended the #BookTalakayan citing this page 77 of Isabela, its prose a perfect description of a suspended reality:
“Ka Abel says that they’re here. This is the place. Just as they cross over the bend of the meadow, without warning whatsoever, the landscape changes, as if a cloth lifts, and all they can now see are the purple hydrangeas. They are all suddenly still, stunned by the unreal view, like a fantasy. The world tilts heavily as they take in the whole landscape. It’s marvelous.”
A day after, I still remember the echoes and sighs of this discussion I moderated. And I realized, this book club can appreciate the stillness of beauty among the chaos of the mad world.
Feel ang moment ko parang… wao, that’s greyt. Parang, computation. Parang… iz breathless with all the felt. It’s breathless in the moment of life. FOR THE FUTURE! Moment of life for the nature… parang nature ang nararamdaman ko…
So, we did a talk in the Philippine Book Festival on how the PRPB started before the surge of the facebook as the main source of discussions and announcements, the dynamics of the pre-pandemic years, and how the new era of members and more inclusive representation reshaped our book club and how it kind of contributed to the community of writers, publishers, and new audiences of the written word.
I am happy and very much humbled to be a moderator of this relatively flat organization that keeps doing all these collaborations with the authors, academic groups, and national institutions — and all pro bono, for the sake of the love of reading. I do hope that we can maintain this third space for the years to come. And even though we grow old and gray (wao, tumanda na ako rito sa grupong ito. IMAGINE 13 YEARS!!!), we hope that we have the young ones to keep the momentum going.
Sana proud ang pinakamatandang founder namin. Na heto na ang book club niya na akala niya puru field trip lang noon. Narito na ang PRPB, umaambag na sa pambansang kaganapan ng panitikan.
I went to Makati last night to give some stuff to Lyra: her backpack (helped me in traversing Japanese countryside) and a Christmas gift from Jhana. The commute from my little home should be lighter than most of the working class from the North (since I live in the strategic center of the Metro) but every time I decide to use the main artery called EDSA, it feels like I am embarking in a long concrete jungle trek just to get to the Ayala Triangle. Ever since the pandemic lockdowns, I have zero idea on the ways of the commute along the Makati Central Business District; it has become a sea of SUVs and lots of crawling kamote riders at the seams, like a mix of US and Vietnam warring the roads of Paseo and Buendia and other one-way avenues like HV Dela Costa.
Seeing the OG Phil Stock Exchange in Makati is unpleasant. Andaming tent! Nawala ang bisa ng pagkakalikha sa kanya bilang malawak na open space dahil lang sa hindi ko tukoy na event. The mini-enclave is hospital-white coded. Hindi ko alam kung may laboratory ba ng MPOX sa loob, o may kasal, o sadyang gawa-gawang pook-kainan ng mga burgis. I told Lyra to meet me in Paseo Center instead, a little waypoint of corporate employees for their lunch breaks and meriendas. I remember this building in my college years as I traverse the same business district looking for respondents in our Tacsiapo feasibility study, its thesis being “the main community to address stress and anger management,” a transgressive buzzword before the surge of the call centers and financial BPOs in the Pinoy business landscape.
I sat inside the Pho Hoa, addressing the need for protein and carbohydrates. My body wanted a replenishment from the trek. And on that trek I realized that I was building a fan fiction: a delulu lore of being an International banker. With the experience of policy papers, I’ve become the passenger princess while this specific bias is my driver. We tagged this as a “Cultural Meeting”, but it’s a one-on-one fan meet. A curated conversation with this specific musician who graduated in my university, reshaped the OPM landscape via PPOP, and him seeking funding with the vision of “Iaangat ang ekonomiya sa pamamagitan ng mga nililikhang musika at katha.” And this scenario is strategically placed in EDSA corner Ortigas Ave, when I randomly sighed “heto na naman si Edsang Cajabaan” while mulling over the ways we can channel his vision into a 25-year Official Development Assistance.
Suddenly, I opened my organizer and added this specific prompt as the fourth item of my to-do list for submissions.
Thanks to Lyra and her husband’s SUV, we have combated the traffic and she drop me off to my next event place in Kalayaan. In Hoseik Manila, I met Justine alone in the farthest bench, an hour before the event starts. He mentioned about the Vivo brothers, mute and waiting on the opposite side. I’d have to bank in my affiliation as the book club moderator and say hello. Pero, hindi ko makilala ang mga tao dahil wala akong salamin, at madilim — ano bang meron sa bar na ito kundi dim lighting? Kung hindi ko pa tatanungin yung mga nakaupo, hindi pa sila maghe-hello. Buti na lang pala at extrovert ako. Bulag nga lang.
Ang cool lang ni sir Nal (tawagin ko na ba syang boss Vivo? Kasi naman, parating tawag sa akin nun ay Ms. Ella). We talked about the direction of this writers org for Pasig City, and how we can tackle and move the community from its annual writing workshops to quarterly folios, and widen its reach to the aspiring young writers via literary engagements. Also, I told him that I intentionally invited him with the other younger writers who can sit with those aligned with the academe and public institutions, as I desire to make a workshop bring out a new way of storytelling: employing mobilities, newer vernaculars and inclusivity in code-switching. He had high hopes, as this will be his first formal workshop as a panelist in a roster of multiple fellows in various genres. He jested that if I winged the 2025 summer workshop and be able to introduce a new philosophy contrasting today’s academic landscape, “tinalo mo pa ang UP Writers workshop!”
With our exchange of ideas and sentiments on current Pinoy literary landscape and its readership (and patronage?), magkakaroon na kami ng bagong episode sa Book Talakayan podcast. Sayang hindi ko nai-record ang lahat ng ito. Isa pa, super busy na ng aming creative director (kaya matagal nang hiatus ang nasa spotify).
He nudged me to ask questions to Ricky Lee, being the main guest for that night’s event of spoken word poetry and sparking the interest and honing the craft, but I became hesitant, responding with, “Sa book club na lang, mas friendly pa sa mga basher na katulad ko.” We listened as the National Artist repeats his lores of script-writing and storytelling. A student asked and sir Ricky answered, “Ilabas mo lang yan, isuka mo yang mga naiisip mo. Saka na ang pagpapaganda; ang mahalaga, naisulat mo.” Vivo chimed in and he echoed the same sentiment, saying that even though some academics say that you are introducing a different idea to the world, as long as you release a craft, you can feel relief. You can feel whole again.
Our conversations jumped from opinions of the pinoy creative writing from our younger years, and how to introduce a new ethos with the insertion of short media, infusion of music and film / tv series, and how to execute movements in the prose. Special mention: Bebang’s REELiterature, building bookish features and creative nonfiction entries via facebook videos. As usual, I cannot help but share my reading experiences with the long forms and how it influenced my way of writing stories through the “Creative Nonfiction slant”, its art of restraint and its slow movement as a haven to create a first-person view of things from a higher elevation. I told him that it takes a huge toll on my stamina, as I do not rage-write, a polar opposite of his writing rhythms and the birth of the Dreamland trilogy. He candidly shared about his one-on-one mentorship with the students taking thesis on the MA Creative Writing, and he often asked the young, “Tinuturuan ba kayo ng iba pang istilo ng pagsusulat?” and more often than not, the latter would answer in the same manner as my reading experience: building a universe ala-Noli, but nothing is happening, prose is becoming slow-burning, with a high risk of crash-and-burn at the latter part of the work. Worse, it becomes stagnant.
I asked if he has a life-hack on making people move in his stories, and his insight that I picked in his anecdotes was about the auditory engagement. Almost after he mentioned about earworms being an organic element to a song, a poet shared his story on writing 80 pages that looked like a film script but actually a short story, his voice echoed as sharp as the violet laser light in the dimmed space. Out of curiousity, I stood and looked for the man but Vivo stopped me saying, “Huwag mong hanapin, pakinggan mo lang. Umupo ka lang at pakinggan.” I wasn’t attentively listening to whatever the man said, but I was actively noting the timbre, the assertive tone, and his sub-woofing vocal range in the microphone. That poet can be a voice artist dubbing Sid Lucero, taglish-ing the conflict of his quick-witted mind versus the typing skills, the ideas quickly falting and not plotting properly into the paper.
I guess that little snippet gave me an idea to engage in other forms of art and channel the same velocity to the drafts I am creating for my submissions. Perhaps this time around, I can channel the writing rage, and rather than just dumping quotations and conversations of the characters, I can do a drill of thrashing the craft with multitudes of verbs and adjust my scenarios to a spree, engaging a third-person point of view and work it like a camera lens, its level as grounded and with the world. It does take a lot of unlearning from the slow-burns and musings.
Little breaks happened after the talks and guests of the spoken word segments, some picture taking here and there, and before the Vivo brothers exit the scene, we have our picture taken.
From left to right: Ronnel Vivo, Ronaldo Vivo, Ella, Justine Taño, Rickly Lee Yung tinapik ko lang si sir Ricky Lee tas sabi ko, “Sir dali, pa-picture po tayo, sayang naman.” HAHAHA! Tapos biglang kinalabit ko si Alfonso Manalastas para kuhaan kami ng picture. Napakabait ng mga tao sa resident basher ng Pinoy Reads Pinoy Books.
Sa lahat ng naging hanash namin sa event, bigla kong naisip ang magiging isa sa vision ng baby project na AGOS (Adhika ng Giting sa Obra at Sining) ng Pasig: Ang pagkakaroon ng kanlungan at bagtasan ng mga manunulat at mambabasa mula sa samu’t-saring strata ng Kapasigan, at tagapagpadaloy ng mga katha sa mga mamamayang hirap sa paghahanap ng ikukunsumong sining. Isa siyang magiging malaking waypoint (Genshin Impact reference) na magmamapa ng bagong paraan ng pagkukwento at pagbabanghay sa boses na progresibo.
Last Saturday, September 28, Pinoy Reads Pinoy Books (PRPB) discussed the Glenn Diaz’s second book, Yñiga for our Book Talakayan for the month. A contrast from the previous months, the book was a bit heavier on theme and discussion was done more intimately. Nontheless, we were able to spark the interest of our new book club attendess to chime in and get personal with the author about how he created the novel, its underlying themes and the process of building its series of events. We held the discussion in Harong Cafe, the headquarters of the Human Rights and People Empowerment Center (HRPEC).
We opened the discussion with the introduction of the new joiners, letting them say their horoscope signs and names of their pets if they have one. Like Yñiga who leans more on the horoscope, I prefer to know the demographics of the attendess so that I can leverage the temperament of the discussion.
The first question that comes to mind: how did the book emerge? Glenn answered that his second book is a manuscript out of his doctorate thesis from University of Adelaide, proving that the forest can be a setting, a novel’s design, and a device of discourse about the deep-rooted history of social activism, counter-insurgency, and our personal and collective traumas. “It’s like another thesis defense again!” Glenn gasped, as he talked about the Qualitative and the Academic nuances of the novel before traversing the creative pursuit. As an accountant with no experience in presenting qualitative thesis, I found this fascinating.
Unlike the first novel focusing on interweaving narratives, Yñiga focused more on the interweaving of timelines and in its spiral prose style. Glenn honestly mentioned about the thought process of trauma, quoting Lenin, “one step forward, two steps back.” The discussion was like paving a new walking path to the forestry of Glenn’s fiction, as Yñiga’s winding narrative requires patient exploration. Readers have to weave through the long paragraphs and sentences that doesn’t explicitly show if one is an internal dialogue or otherwise. Glenn trusted the readers to navigate the slow-burn prose. He candidly said, “Yñiga is like an edging reading experience”. When asked about memorable scenes, Glenn was personally proud of the “sepia moments”: those cinematic shots of Yñiga’s childhood flashing forward to her present, minutes before the suspense.
The members asked and commented about a different take of feminism in the novel; how the women were very much involved in the community and how it pales their personal relationships. Jayson also mentioned that despite Yñiga being an unlikeable character and being distant to the events that go on around her, and yet it contrasts to the lyrical beauty of the prose. Julian, an editor, mentioned about the sense of community in one of the important events of the novel. Perry asked about Glenn’s experience of putting a logical discourse to a craft seamlessly as this was manifested in the novel. Krystine, a new attendee, asked about the impression of using English as the main language of the novel as this would cater foreign readers more than to fellow Filipinos. Capping the discussion, Kwesi asked what’s next for Glenn, what are some of the project/s he is working on, or if he will write a novel in Filipino.
I closed the Book Talakayan with a jest of the “and so on and so forth”, Glenn’s inflections as a podcast co-host. Some picture-taking and book signing came after. In my mind, this quote from his other work When the World Ended I Was Thinking About The Forest resonated with the day’s book discussion, “I think what I’m trying to do is turn the uncertainty into a clearing; the terror, into a project. (A kaingin.)”
Alam mo ba, ha? Ang saya pala ng mga workshop! Parang may masterclass at may libreng pagbabalik sa Filipino lesson. Na-miss ko ito, legit! Wala naman kasing ganito noong college tayo. Puru worksheet at mga numero lang. Grabe kapoy ra gyud! At dahil mas nangibabaw ang #TitaHits, sa sobrang pagod ko buong weekend ay derecho ako sa tulog ahahaha. Alam kong bampira ang timeline ng buhay ko, pero bakla, kagigising ko lang at gusto kong isulat ang aftermath ng mga ganap, pero mas gusto kong i-mention itong hanash na’to.
So eto na nga. ALAM MO BA, HA!
Sa mismong palihan ko pa na-meet ko yung naka-swipe ko! Bigla na lang nag-light bulb nung Sabado kasi sabi ko sa sarili ko, “Wow, he looks family!” Alam mo yung pareho kaming nag-kagulatan na ok naman pala yung tao, pero takot akong sabihin ito nang harapan kasi mas writer sya, kaya mas mabuting gawing flash fiction ito under my pseudonym… Ayun lang, dahil nai-share ko sa karamihan ang aking pen name eh di may takot akong muli na hanapin niya ang ikalawang persona ko sa panulat tapos bigla kong naisip, hindi naman siguro lahat ng tao mala-stalker ang galawan? At alam nating lahat na sa bawat akda ay may kwento, at sa bawat persona ay hindi personal ang atake.
Pero single daw sya eh, mag-isa lang din yata sa bahay at sa buhay.
So ayun, naikwento ko na sa iyo at kina T— kasi ayoko na rin mang-jinx at bigyan ito ng malisya, (hello, 37 ka na teh!) pero andun talaga kasi ung kagustuhan na kapag magkita kami, at kapag may fellowship / inuman sessions, ilalabas ko ang unhinged behavior ko at aaminin na na-swipe right ko sya… na hanggang pag-follow back lang sa instagram ang naganap. Sinubukan kong makipag-ugnay sa kanya dati sa online dating app, pero alam mong hindi ito magwo-work kasi iba ang ariba ng isang nakakasalamuha mo offline, lalo na at una mong nakitang footprint online ay isang katha, o isang rehistro ng wikang kayo lang ang nakakaalam (aka memes).
Pero matanong lang, paano nga ba ulit hanapin ang dati mong naka-swipe right dito? HAHAHAHAH talagang hinanap ko pa ih, feeling ko rin naman deactivated na ‘yun sya. Sana lang hindi awkward kapag nagkabukingan na kasi mataas ang posibilidad na aware din sya sa aking ‘tsura at sa paraan ng aking panulat. KASI, BAKIT PUMASA YUNG GAWA KO, ABA?!
Itanong ko ba? HAHAHAHAH
Okay fine, most likely, sasabihin mo lang naman na maganda ang gawa ko as a writer ng Personal na Sanaysay — OO NA, HINDI NA GINAGAMITAN NG BIAS AT EMOSYON ANG ISANG KATHA SA PAG-QUALIFY — peeerrro, malay naman natin? Kanpidens naman ang baon ko rito eh, dahil alam nating pareho na walang pang nag-lathala ng isang babaeng boses ng middle class at may bigat at danas ng isang batang mulat sa Home Along da Riles (both in sitcom and in real life).
Hilig ko talaga sa slowburn, no? Kakabasa ko kasi ito ng The Solitude of Prime Numbers ni Paolo Giordano at One Day ni David Nicholls kasi ito eh. Pinanindigan ko na talaga na may mga eksenabells sa aklat na nagma-manifest sa tunay na buhay. Life Manual lang, hehe. Kaya heto, ang buhay ko ay Mga Pagsasanay Sa Pag-iisa: Mga Sanaysay ni Egay. Iba sa iyong buhay na hirap na hirap sa anak mong parating naisusugod sa clinic.
Pero at least, may micro-family ka na.
Ako rin naman, may micro-family. Kasama ko itong mga bagong usbong na mustard sprouts at ang mga basil na tuluy-tuloy lang sa pagtubo, kahit kinakain ko sya matapos ko itong iyakan (as a therapy session). Naku, nabanggit pa naman nun ni sir na yun kung paano ko raw naitatawid nang mag-isa ang pamumuhay sa concrete jungle where dreams are made of na ito. Syempre sinagot ko, may minsanang iyak. Feeling ko, hindi mawawala sa isang peak millennial ang ganun.
We are the generation that experiences a collective feeling of resignation, na kahit mulat ang kamalayan sa “call to action” eh hindi natin magawa, kasi alam nating ang sistemang ito ay ginawa para sa paulit-ulit na batuhan ng comfort at reklamo.
Sa sobrang mulat natin sa pag-ikot ng mundo, mas nanaisin na lang nating hintayin ang mga kaliwa’t-kanang sigwa at matutunang itawid ang bawat krisis na ito. Ganyan na ganyan rin ang naging kumento sa akin ng isang panelist sa workshop na sinalihan ko. Kailangan ko raw pumili ng pwesto. At kailangan, sa bawat katha ay sana hindi lang neutral ang tono.
Pero magagawa ba yun sa isang liham na tulad nito? Ang gusto ko lang naman ay magtala. At minsan, mas gusto ko na rin lang umiyak para kapag napagod kakaluha ay may mas masarap na tulog. In short, naitatawid ko ang araw-araw as minsang baliw, madalas workaholic. Pero hindi mawawala ang pagsasanay ng pagsusulat. Kasi ito lang din ang aking release. Siguro katulad nya? Mas malikhain lang ‘yung sa kanya kasi kaya niyang bumuo ng isang eksenang may maraming tao at may format ng isang script ng dula’t pelikula. Tapos itong sa akin, pilit na binubuhay ang isang artistikong paglalahad ng saloobin na unti-unting pinapatay na ng social media.
So heto, sumusubok ulit sa liham na hindi mo na mababasa. Pwede itong ilagak sa kategoryang “Mga Minsanang Kapansanan ng Pagmamahal”. Odiba, aken lang yan! Inaantok na ako atm at ito na yung challenge ko sa malikhaing pagsulat, lalo na sa mga personal na sanaysay: paano itatawid ang thesis ng pagtatala sa pagmamahal, at paaano idurugtong ang katotohanang ang bawat katha ay isang sining din ng pagmamahal? Ah, heto: masasabi nating ang tunay na tala ng kasaysayan ay nagsisimula sa huntahang puno ng tsaa at tsismisan. Minsan, hindi sa isang pagtitipon. Pwede ring palipad-hangin sa algoritmo, parang post sa facebook. O maaaring maging liriko tulad nung pambansang ritmo ng pagpapaka-sadgurl at sadboi – yung bagong Frustrated Poets kineso. At ang isang pakikipagtalastasan ay isang pagtatala ng mga kwento mula sa isang taong nagmamahal…
Pero antok na antok na ako.
Hays, heto na naman tayo sa episode ng isang internal na tunggalian: uunahin ko bang i-address ang gutom, o itutulog ko na lang ang lahat ng ito? Babalik na naman ako sa sirko ng comfort at reklamo, at ang panandaliang kabaliwan ng pag-o-overthink sa mga “what-if” kahit alam naman nating pareho, may bumibisitang doktor at magluluto ng adobo. Ngayon, nasaan na ang ulam ko? Hays, wala namang ibang magluluto ngayong umaga kundi ako…
O siya, dito na lang muna. Kapag may bagong workshop ulit, balikan ko ito tapos dagdagan ko pa ng mga tsaa. Tutal, hindi lang naman ikaw ang makakasipat nitong munting tsismisan. Baka pati mismong si Mr. Playright… na magiging Mr. Right?
PS: Gutom lang ito. Ignore. Naku ilalagay na naman ito sa #MinsanangKapansananNgPagmamahal. Makapagluto na nga!
March on, Singapore. You were a port of tea before, then you became “The Asia layover”, and now, you were an option for my forevermore.
That is, until you crush me with the difficulty of taking investment bankers in and paying New York-ish rent, plus the fact that what we are is a legally-permitted ant. An ASEAN worker who has no right to invest in your reclaimed lands. This is what I learned upon checking-in with a guy I met in an instagram meme, as he was looking for a fund manager (and all the while I thought he was looking for a corporate-type, alas, he needs a freelancer).
Upon arriving in Singapura and seeing that vortex waterfall of recycled chlorine in colored LED, I ask myself again, “Why do I go here? What is your plan? Is you plan to meet him? And then what? Are you proposing something in mind? Something in kind? Just something…?”
I guess I went to meet him not only because of me exploring this as a setting of my personal rendition of “brain-drain” tropes, or maybe it’s not only because of me being left out by the siblings who went halfway across the world just to explore a better healthcare and greater chance of saving money, but also because I was imagining a vision of us together, renting a bedsit in the OG HDB Estate teeming with Singapura storylines of struggle, strife, and finally, thrive.
That is, when he mentioned in passing that he isn’t really looking for a partner at a moment. Or maybe in the near future. Or maybe, in forever. He won’t look, period. Ganern. Disappointed, but kind of expected. After all, we are too busy assessing if we really are in a thriving place — if our current careers are okay, or if our savings are intact… Or in my case, if I can afford to go to TWG and have a jasmine tea whenever I wish to rant about this foolish situation of the world. (The Climate change commission estimated an ealier end btw, way earlier than our projected first run of the Manila subway project in 2078).
We are too busy to heal, to dream, to grind separately. After all, we just met in a meme.
“Tell me where you are right now, no kidding.” was that meme. I was in my office cafeteria, blindly taking a snapshot of the false greenery of the pantry, introspecting how corporate that is— green sofas, like the old plants uprooted in BGC, to give way to our payable carparks, and limited slots for driving employees. A shout of “Slot is full!” for every time an FTE wishes to avail a free parking in the night. Alas, most of us work at night.
The meme went and so our conversations ensued. From August 2022 to moments of crisis and anxieties of earning, progressing with careers, to emotional emergencies of breaking up and how to deal and how to heal, and scheduled breakdowns, to net worths, grit of the grind, IG stories and madam bebi branding. Until Lazada 12.12 sale offered an ad about flying again. After all, it has been two years since my last scheduled flight and subsequently cancelled because of Covid.
We took our conversation outside the usual platform, and I find ourselves that in moments of silence, we still stick to the noise. Rather than dropping the phone and look at each other, we hover our eyes to the blue lights and its radiation; I don’t even know now if too much can cause an eye cancer. Brain-drain, I guess. The mental health kind, not the economic diaspora kind.
And so I mull again on this diaspora idea and he was saying that I should stick to this current gig as it gives me what I need without moving out of the comfort zone. And I felt antsy again, because that sentiment came from a thriving man who went all the way to uproot himself and remove from the anxiety of being the great breadwinner. An anxiety that I keep on managing, as long as I stay in my family home. I still stay, because I was too busy and too tired to deal with the paperwork of applying renovations and seeing to it that every design fitted the japandi aesthetic. The design was there, the paperwork wasn’t. It still wasn’t. Just like the doctor who was emotionally absent from the time he became physically absent from Manila. He doesn’t deserve to be included in my treasure trove of dating fails, but I guess he really is a dating fail. He set the benchmark of the profiles too high, but he crushed the vision bar too low, it became six feet under.
I don’t even know if there is still a single soltero with a PRC license, a crossover with automatic transmission, and a net worth of at least Php5 million (financial notes came from that auditor, not from this banker). That, plus a desire of not having a kid. Will I ever find that in Manila? I mean, most of these men are (1) not hitting the profile, or (2) desiring to make a child, or (3) that doctor: a single father. Wala bang (4) none of the above? I mean, I am still optimistic, but if the market is so limited in Manila, perhaps I can start looking for one in Singapura…?
So we circle back to this Majulah Singapura, together with my unique #chikitingpatrolSG hashtag and ubiquitous learning about content-creation and noise-cancellation. Back to the re-imagining the vision, or perhaps time to learn algorithms and python?
[It was a cool August night, and a rare chance to take a holiday. But instead of being stuck in my bedroom, I pretended to be a doctor that day, inviting resident doctors to a seminar.
But there are other stories that day… about plans for the future, with donuts and black coffee. About nothing, but going up. And there’s this]
Yellow lights glimmer like fireflies in midnight. The city is still awake, while its inhabitants are about to sleep. In the midst of fewer vehicles, walking paces and fluorescent convenient stores, there are two souls sighing their declarations of love and consummation of lust.
There are two pairs of eyes, looking at the city below and enjoying its view.
Two lips entwined, in I love you’s and suppressed moans. Two pairs of hands, touching and owning one another. Two souls thrusting and celebrating a little piece of heaven – that their little bubble has created and contained.
Such is the language of admiration and affirmation; that no matter how noisy the city is at night, these two jejemons, or so-called batang-hamog, enjoy the luxury of being on top of the world, having their little solace and peace.
This is the First Draft of the Book Discussion log for the Pinoy Reads Pinoy Books #BookTalakayan that happened last July 21, 2018.
It was out of the PRPB monthly routine, the event was the third Saturday rather than the first. And, it was the author’s last hurrah, before flying out to the land down under. Last July 21, in the middle of the rain, flood and traffic, we conducted the Book Talakayan with Glenn Diaz. We found our safe haven in SGD Coffee in UP Teacher’s Village, Quezon City.
Usual events first took place – introducing oneself, what do you do in life, and what is your favorite part of the book. In a circle of more than 15 participants, the common favorite was this:
“We are the City! What is a city without inhabitants? Nothing but plants and hills and rivers. Or flood plains and esteros… The city is not a place. It is a social arrangement. Defined by concession. By consensus. It is us. A city ends when there are no longer people to define it.”
This striking quote is a birthplace of multiple short stories created as sub-plots, and remapping the interweaving narratives of Glenn’s first novel The Quiet Ones. As I asked where this work started, he zeroed in to Kilometer Zero, his short story of a Filipino and an American Anthropologist who wanted to write about Manila, coming from a foreigner’s point of view.
Glenn claims he’s Manilenyo, born and grew up in Sta. Mesa, with Ilocano parents. For us who have read the book through and through, this explains the alluring noise of Manila, and its stark contrast with the disturbing peace of Pagudpud. He does his research not as intently as I thought it would be, for he is not like the writers I imagined (those who do the mind-map and tried to bleed out the ideas from shelled-out themes).
For me, he broke the current tropes of poverty porn by creating a white noise in the daily lives of the Pinoys. By the novel more humane, he actually made bus routes, LRT tracks, and the concrete pavements of the Ayala Business District immersive and alluring – creating romance in the mundane. It was an effort, he says. “Let’s demystify writing, it takes hours of labor to put it into a piece of work.” Elaborating the unlearning, he says he desynthesized the angsty tones in his young working student years (he used to be a work in People Support from 2005-2007), making the familiar places more sentimental. He sees his former workplace with a nostalgic tone – the Lung Center, Paydays and American Holidays and Pecha de peligo – that he even thought that this phase will delay his graduation to finally get a move on with life.
The discussion were a bit disjointed; like the novel itself, series of questions were not made in linear form, but instead, it is a traverse between multiple moments, interjecting personal questions in between. Let’s say, more of probing the author himself. Instead of continuously reflecting into the quiet, it oftentimes got escalated with the [Questions of the Tita], triggering bluntness and candor in snippets of serious questions.
And the noises came in.
In a series of candid questions – reflecting on the romantic moments between Carolina and Reynaldo, Philip and Eric, Alvin and Scott – these subplots with partnered characters is a work of fiction. I see it as a staple statement to veer away more personal questions, but to be able to write a female perspective is his way of channeling Lorrie Moore. And actually, seeing himself as Carolina. He did say about an old couple he saw in Pagudpud. Perhaps, it also gave an inspiration to create a female character and a summer romance with build-up tensions at the end of the chapter.
In discussing the Palanca stint, he actually did not expect it to win. He just wrote the novel to get the project done, made an impulse decision (more of #YOLO) to submit it for Palanca Awards, and actually won without any backups, or so-called politicality of it all. He has this look that he doesn’t want his work to be tagged in the words of “Palanca Winner”; more of he was happy if he hears about a reader raving reviews without the knowledge about the award-giving body.
Calisthenic writing, is there such a thing in The Quiet Ones?
He says the first chapter itself is a writing exercise. He wanted to challenge himself if he can write an action-filled part, focusing more on the plot rather than the character’s stream of consciousness. But alas, it cannot maintain it’s consistency. I guess, it is more of his buying in to the readers to get engaged before immersing. In addition, having WE as the first-person-plural point of view is an observation from the creative writers and readers alike – and he says it is not him being part of an equation (i.e. Alvin + Glenn Diaz), but rather, it is a collective term for The Workforce.
Marie meanwhile, as an omnipresent character throughout the novel was not a writing exercise, not even an intention to create tangent points with the characters across the novel. She is the missing link, but Glenn emphasized that it was our insight in seeing that way. She used to have her own chapter, but in the end removed. For me, she represented the essence of a person sans the spotlight; like an old friend who was always there, waiting.
After closing the book discussion, I personally have a renewed love-hate relationship with Manila. Perhaps if I look at Kilometer Zero again, I might see a ghost of a Scott saying “Mahal na mahal mo itong lungsod, ano…?”
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