Essays and Works in Progress

A Little Letter A Minute After Three

Hello, what is Meta Professional mode? I just intend to keep the followers and friends from the past to be updated with whatever’s happening with me. Suddenly, tadah! There are offers for ads and “subscribe to Meta Verified”.

How is me, you wonder? Heto, pagod.

In the wee hours of morn, I am eating my leftover ramen while trying my best to finish the books I am currently reading (for Pinoy Reads Pinoy Books and Nakita sa Booksale pero Hindi Binili). I wasn’t able to write creatively at the moment since my mind is vexed from frustrations of the Corporate, topped with difficult Market movements of Late-stage capitalism and looming anxiety of 5 days onsite expected later this year.

I miss my amigas. We only touch-base in our group chats. I miss the PRPB after-parties and/or walwal nights. And I miss the moments when I can just grab my bag and hike Benguet mountain ranges, or go to Palawan to feel the sea breeze. I may live in a “ivory tower” away from the floods, but I am not invincible not to feel lonely (or be out of touch with reality. yet. I guess?)

You can actually see my bogsa moments in my instagram stories, my older entries in my personal website. Tiktok contents are stale. Maybe I can put a video out sometime this weekend.

I hope you are okay, dear friend. I may be TTTHHHHIIIISSSS tired, but I make a point to set a time to destress. I hope you do, too. Take care of your health. With leptospirosis and coughs and colds around us, I hope you get yourself some vitamins. Don’t forget to drink water. And never forget to rest.

Because when we rest, we dream. And the further we dream, we envision.

And then, we rage against the machine.

Zero Visibility

C5 and Ilog Pasig at Rainy Afternoon

Hinihintay humupa ang bulong ng
malakas na ulan nang biglang
umugong ang kulog
sa condo na walang katao-tao.
Lahat sila’y nakalusong,
bumibiyahe kasama ang
ingay ng trapik, mga businang
may badya ng pag-aalala.

Naghihintay ako
hanggang alas-kwatro,
titiyempuhin na tumigil
ang alburoto.

Sana ngayong hapon, makapasok ako.
Kung hindi, wala. Work from Home.

Poetics:

I woke up and I saw the rain. Took a photo and drafted something to get the worry out of my system.

Halaman Sa Balkonahe

Nasanay na ako sa paghimbing sa
gabing may minsanang busina ng mga trak
at alingawngaw ng ambulansa
at alert ng mga pulis,
pero nagulat ako nang bigla
kang pumunta sa aking espasyo
para hanapin ang isang bulalakaw.

“Paano magkakaroon ng Lyrid shooting stars
sa siyudad kong polluted na ng mga
ilaw ng condo at billboard ang panganorin?”
Maya-maya, bigla ka na lang lumuha.
Naku, unscheduled breakdown mo ba?
Natawa lang ako na bumalik ka pa sa loob para
kunin ang iyong relaxing chair at isang bote ng tubig.
Iniayos ang upuan at mesa sa tabi ko—
At tangan mo na ang malinaw na likido.
Hindi siya kulay gintong inuming kapangalan mo.

Heto na ang ating therapy session.

Poetics:

Nothing much. I only showed how I compartmentalize my struggles in living the concrete jungle where dreams are made of.

Weekend Doomscroll

Boat of aid to Gaza
“Can Thunberg swim well?”
With Jet2 holidays you can save 50 pounds per person!
I have a partner I wanted to fcuk hard
but so out of reach, so far away.
I see a wrinkle in my eye—
a permanent mark, to where I show my smile.
With the Statue of Liberty in the background,
I realized the ferry was free.
Zohran Mamdani for Mayor in NYC,
Catching up with memes,
at katok sa pinto. Tao sa tao.
Kampanyang ala-Leni Robredo.

Sa kabila ng kawalan ng Pinoy
as IG reels representative ng boycott,
Namumutiktik sila sa Facebook.
Habang pinuputakte ng Zionist
at bashers at troll farmers
ang targeted ads na pusa
at NCAP at mga pagtatakip sa plate ng sasakyan.
May bago na palang taxi mula sa Vietnam.
Kung saan tayo ang dating nagtuturo
ng pagpapalay, at pagbibigas, sila na
ang nag-eexport ng expertise
sa patuloy na lumulubog
na Pilipinas.

Ruby-chan! Hai! Nani ga suki?
Pinatay muna ang social media.
Nagtungo sa messenger,
nakita ang balita.

May isang kaibigang
tumigil ang mundo.
Binisita ko nitong
nakaraang linggo,
at ang nakita ko ay pagkakabuklod,
ng mga kaanak, kaibigan,
at akong random classmate
ng isang yumao.
Hindi ko alam kung ang pagtutula(ng ito)
ay makapagbigay hustisya
sa mga nakaraang araw ng pahinga.

Nagulat ako at nagising:
Tanghali na.
Lunes na (naman!)

Poetics:

This is my tiktok and IG and facebook last weekend, with a touch of me-time cooking left-overs and ganking in ML. I visited a high school classmate and I felt fear and loneliness because I was a very extrovert, but now with a bookish community being broken about the issues with the Philippines as the Guest of Honor in Frankfurt Buchmesse, I don’t even know where to start building a community again. Maybe I was outrageous of it being broken, or I overthink too much. Maybe all I need to do is to reach out to friends who can help me when I get old, and visit them and talk to them heart-to-heart.

That visit of the dead made me think if I invested enough, or should I start caving in again and be ready. Sigh, is this what the midlife crisis is? Or maybe another episode of existential dread…?

Eve at the Ivory (tower)

Ngayong gabi: kasama ng hanging dala ng halumigmig ng ulan, ng mga pipip sa kalsada at ng minsang ting-ting ng aking window chime, ninanamnam ang ligtas na kinatitirhan.

Ngunit sa kabilang banda: kumakapit ako sa nabasang kwento ng isang batang estudyanteng nagsalaysay ng gulong nasa paligid niya. Kung saan ba sya papanig, kung sino ba ang paniniwalaan. Habang katabi ang mainit na kapeng arabica, nahihigop ako ng kanyang mga katanungan, at tila nadadagdagan ito sa bawat eksenang naaalala ko sa kalsada: ang mabagal na galaw ng PNR, ang trapik sa Kalentong at ang katabing ninakawan, at ang pagpasok sa kabila ng baha sa kanyang nilalakaran.

Naisip ko bigla: kasalanan ba ang dumistansya sa mga danas ng nasa pahina? Kasalanan ba na pilit kinakalimutan ang trauma ng kinagisnang Ondoy, Ulysses at Yolanda? Sa dami ng mga ingay at tanong, narito pa rin ako, tumatakas sa mga kinilalang poot ng mundo.

Poetics:

Sometimes, I ask myself if I was the only one feeling guilty on the life I chose. Maybe because I used to be part of the urban poor, but very privileged to graduate in a university with the course I chose to aspire, landed a high calibre work experience and finally, chose to own a unit in a high-rise condo away from the standard bungalow of Metro. Do I deserve to be living away from the before? Should I be indebted to the people arounde me, while I toil just to have a stash of good coffee?

After moments of guilt-trips and dilemmas, I learn to be grateful of all the experiences I’ve been through. It is extremely expensive to own a house for a single-income earner, but I make sure to say thanks to the higher being who guides me in my solitude. And I remember, my decision to live alone is my way of healing from the bitter memories.

Imumungkahi Ko Sana

Nang una kitang makita sa Changi
dito sa kinikilalang layover of Asia,
bumalik ang ating kabataan
sa sintang paaralan.

Sa komyut, sumakay tayo ng MRT at
pareho tayong tahimik.
Bigla mong nabanggit,
“Naalala mo pa ba ang adventure sa trolley?”
Natawa ako at naisagot ang,
“Hahaha! Onga, dun sa Pandacan!”

Malayo na tayo sa riles ng PNR.
Malayo na sa sigaw ng alsa at pakikibaka;
Sa pagkamulat at pag-aaktibista.

Hindi ko na rin naabutan
ang iyong pamamaalam. Nagulat na lang akong
bahagi ka na ng diaspora.
Ang sabi nila, ito ang iyong pagtawid
mula sa pagkukubli.

Dumaan ang sampung taon at
narito ako’t kausap ka.
Narito at plano kang tanungin:
“Papayag ka pa rin bang ika’y maging akin?”

Narito ako para umamin at sabihing:
Sa pagkawala mo’y mas natutunan kitang mahalin.
Sa pagparito ko’y mas natutunan kitang tanggapin.

Ang alam ko, kakaiba ang tinig ng aking pag-ibig:
Mas malawig, mas humahamig.
Mas sumusuong, mas humahamon
sa paglipas ng mga taon.

Iniibig kitang higit sa pinagmulan, bitbit ang hirap ng ating karanasan.
Iniibig kitang lalo nang ika’y maglisan, hanggang sa kasalukuyan.

Tumatawid ang tinig mula sa puso,
at lumalampas sa kahulugan ng
kabaklaan.

Poetics:

I did go to Singapore with a proposal in mind to an alumni of the same college. That question in mind became a core memory, as I was in the phase of moving on (from an ex) and learning to love myself again. I may not remember fully what has happened, but I remember the sensibilities: the moments of openness and vulnerability.

The throwing of pillows, ugly-crying and lashing out the hurt, shouting “I do not care about your money or perks, if you end up alone and loneliness gets overbearing, tandaan mo ako.” And how he cried in response, hugging me back while I was crying. The tears on his shirt, my arms on his shoulders; his soothing hands on my back comforting me. As we let go of each other’s embrace, we held our hands, tears in both of our eyes.

That moment healed me in more ways than one.

Limewash

20 April 2023

Dearest K,

Kumusta? After a long month of not communicating with you (in any way, btw), here I was, thinking of you while I was finishing up my DIY Project. I completed my accent wall today! Sure, there were naps and trashtalking and introspections in between, but painting seems to be therapeutic. It kept me grounded and present, always checking that the primer and the limewash paint will not harden; the continuous stirring and the conscious dipping of the brush makes it more of a task handed to be done. The repeated strokes are also meditative and measurable. The activity was predictable. I hope in time, like painting, we were able to meditate whatever happened in our lives in the past days, get the task on hand done, and feel proud of whatever we did. And also, to share it with someone who mattered.

Today, you do matter.

E

cross-post from the original blogspot content

Walang Pinipiling Lugar Ang Pagkawasak

Habang minamando ang takipsilim patungo sa pagbubukang-liwayway ng kabilang mundo
Habang tinitipa ang mga numerong nagpapagulong ng mundo ng mga Amerikano,
Narinig ko ang isang singhap.
Malayo ito sa lukaw ng isang singhal.
Mas lalong malayo sa dama ng pagkabugnot at irita.
Maaari pa itong allergic na maikakaila, kung hindi ko lang naulinigan
ang isang malalim na buntung-hininga.

Bumabalik ang mga malalayong alaala:
Ang kasawian at pangungulila sa lumang silungan ng catwalk,
o ang mga alaalang lumuluha sa pag-iisa sa Alturang malapit sa PNR.
Maging sa mga gawaing paghaharap ng mga araw nang mag-isa,
at mga mauudlot na hinaharap nating pinangarap.

Wala nang atin.
Wala na ang “natin.”
Lahat ng panaginip, iluluha sa panganorin.

Pero sa sandaling singhap ng katabing pilit kinikimkim ang dilim, ang masasabi ko na lang:

Liliwanag din.
Harapin ang ngayon nang paisa-isa.
Subukang huminahon.
Kapag may pagkakataon sa dilim, doon ka maghingalo.
Pwedeng magmaoy, pwedeng magtampo.
Sa dilim, walang pinipiling ano o sino
ang ating pagkawasak.
At ang tandaang lalo:
pagpasyahan ang muling pagkabuo.

Poetics:
I heard an officemate heave a sigh and tear up a bit while we are grinding the daily tasks of Managed Product Operations. While we juggle the system breaks and other start-of-day checks, I noticed, it was day 3 when no one was hovering over our desks. I then realized, that was it. That’s where the loneliness came in. That’s where the need to express also came in. So I stepped out of my desk, and in the corner of our locker areas, I drafted this poem. I am not good in expressing sympathy, but I hope I gave justice to an instance where we feel broken and let ourselves be.

We just need a little space to breathe.

And hopefully after that, we can still decide to be whole. One day at a time, we will be ourselves again.

Mga Alon ng Kalungkutan

Raw materials retrieved from my 2019 tweets. Re-worked and then submitted in the Mountain Beacon facebook page. Perhaps, they will be used again as content in my stories of loneliness, anxieties and dreads. After all, my heart became at ease as soon as I put them all on paper.

Tiong Bahru, August 2022

“Hindi na yata ako makakahanap. Napaglipasan na ako.”

And I felt that loneliness na wala na siyang magiging life partner.
He will be like me.

A voice inside me asks,
“Baka pwede ako? We can try, at least.”

HK Airport Confessions, 2019

There was a wave of loneliness earlier today.

Little waves came when I saw my luggage exceeding 2kg from the enforced carry-on. I kind of willingly surrender some of my clothes to the bin, and put all the luxurious soaps hoarded inside my purse. Tried removing things here and there.

A medium wave came when I saw a yuppie couple before the immigration gate, hugging and talking in their mother tongue, and the guy stayed while the girl rolled her luggage and walked away. It sucks that you are the one making the departure.

The huge one came when I entered the airport rails to the boarding gates, when these old Lolas and Lolos seated inside and merrily talking, in a language I cannot comprehend (even via context clues!).

I was wondering, why do I keep on leaving..? I mean before, whenever I leave, I feel excited or light and happy. But then again I thought, what about those being left? What if… I become part of the other side — the woman who stays and waits?

I realized, we need to treasure every “now” that we hold in our hands. We have to be brave in unfolding ourselves, and drop those inhibitions. So that when they leave, we don’t regret. Or…

We regret less, and we wait more.

BGC High Street at 3AM

They say that loneliness comes in waves. A variety of sizes, a plethora of sounds. Sometimes, it appears as a ripple. Like a little crystal between the toes, being playful. In rare instances, they come in huge waves, like you are in a little kayak in the middle of the sea.

As I was walking the city at 3AM, the little ripples came knocking at my senses. It started to build up, and when I opened the door — the huge wave surprised me. I felt like I was drowning, but my feet kept walking on the concrete. I was haunted. My doubts and fears… those anxieties that you thought you never could have… 

The heart started to beat fast, the chest started to heave sighs, the sight started to blur.
Little did I know, I was crying.

I talked to God. And I whispered this deepest fear at the moment… On what to do next, do I take it logically, should I be analytical on things and such. But there’s no answer. All I did was cry and sigh and walk. I think I was like a soldier becoming tired of getting through the day. Heck, tired of getting through life. And yet, I remembered Lolo’s story:

In waves, one must learn total surrender, and the art of dance.

And so I danced with the waves coming and going. Suddenly, all of it just melted away. Like the battle of storm clouds finally ended, and the waves became little ripples again. But this time, they are subtle and at peace.

My heart became at ease.

Electorate Anxiety: 2022 Time Capsule

I was able to go back the prior facebook postings about PH elections and I wasn’t able to execute that long essay. Three years down the lane, I am, yet again, anxious.

***wishing to write a long essay about witnessing a police intimidating a voter first-hand, and how the ambience of going out at 5:30AM feeling like it was snap elections; me remembering F. Sionil Jose asking me why I voted for Duterte and I simply answered “Because I wanted to see the country burn on the grounds, so that the poor and the middle class will rise again and fight back”, and I added that “because we needed a bigger crisis than the status quo, so that we can spark a movement bigger than what was before”, and I remembered having the ODAs sinking our nation, my house undergoing a huge housing loan, and my angst with the lesser #pribilej having no access to insurance and friendly financing; plus the covid-19 pandemic and bb wearing plastic cover and paracetamol as his very first faceshield; how Benedict Exconde died not asking help for VP Leni’s e-consulta even though his friends asked for his behalf but because he did not give consent, he died; how we Filipinos are so divided because of our two-sided narratives and eaten up with disinformation and re-branding; and how this culminates to this #electionanxiety I am feeling that I just wanted to vomit all and kill/jail the Marcoses but in reality, I am walking the concrete jungle of BGC, looking at the patch of greenery across the Uptown mall and realizing “Tangina manalo si Leni o hindi, makukuha pa rin ng Megaworld ang tipak na lupa na ito at gagawing carpark”***

Sa kabila ng lahat, laban guys. Lumaban tayo bilang Pilipino.