Creative Nonfiction

Figuring Out the Logistics of Loss While Inside the Coffee Shop

As I wait for that last P2P bus going to the Bicol International Airport, I re-read my most recent blog about figuring our the logistics of loss. Here is a recap of sorts:

a. Kazakhstan is cancelled for 2026. I rechanneled the funds to a local travel with my family and for tanking another “Death Plan”

b. Taiwan alpine hike is at 50-50, meaning, I am still undecided on tanking the credit card bills for three months worth, just to take a difficult trail (because the body and mental health needed it)

c. I did the KiudKad – the last resort this week, to have a rest, to hike the mini-peak of Daldagon, to play mobile legends, to read novels and poems… and totally forgotten to ugly cry.

As of this moment, I do not have the capacity or the space to do the ugly dramas of grieving; I just received a message from Mama that the GSIS is yet requiring another document to submit when I get back to Manila. Another set of “burden of proof”, another subset of Remedial Law that I read in my younger years, another count of the two-to-three-weeks before them saying, “Mrs. Betos is entitled to the Surviving Spouse benefit. Please proceed to the Landbank Account Opening on the Pensioner’s Lounge.”

The last time I ugly cried was three years ago, when I was asked, “Why are you really here?” and my response was the tears of hope and a possibility of a parallel timeline of a Tax Accountant’s wife, disintegrated before my very eyes. Moreoften than then I think about things, and no matter how polished a death plan is, the life is indeed fleeting and I still feel like rushing on the moments when I should be still.

Does ugly crying become a personal tick box that I long to check, making sure that my sagacity is earned with emotional maturity?

What if I tell you, that I forgot to grieve the moment I left my eight-year-old American tourister in the middle of the Eminent luggage store in Taichung HSR, while rushing for the bullet train bound for Taipei?

Will I still be that person that you seek wisdom for?

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.

Suman sa Boulevard

Sa magdamag kong pagtatrabaho’t paglilinis ng kwarto ay gutom ang dinatnan sa bukang liwayway, at nasambit ang, “pa-umaga na naman”. Bumaba sa condo at hinanap ang paboritong lako ng manong taho. Pero wala. Nasabi ko na lang, “Ongapala, araw ng paggawa.”

Sa paglalakad sa gilid ng Pasig Boulevard, matamlay din ang mga nakatambay at ang paubos na tindang dilis at gulay. ‘Kako ni Ate, “Diyan na lang kay Kuya ka magtingin at baka may gusto kang kainin.” Nakita ko ang suman. Ang kaning malagkit— panlaman din ng tiyan.

Sa lungkot na pagbalik sa aking tahanan, naisip ko ang pinili kong karera at may kakaibang kultura: ang pagpasok tuwing nagha-holiday ang bansa. Sa Amerika, hindi ito kinikilala, kaya required mag-report sa opisina.

Isang hinga, isang singhal.
Isang buntung-hininga at binulong,

“Little Ella, pakatandaan: sa mundo ng mga kapitalista… ang simpleng puslit ng pahinga, ang pagninilay at pagkatha… ang mga ito’y uri din ng pakikidigma.”

*Sumang latik, sumang malagkit.*
*Maka-ninja ng kwento kahit saglit.*

Bad News

Kaibigan,

Ikinalulungkot ko sabihin sa iyong hindi nakaabot ang ipinasang akda sa in-extend na deadline para sa 2nd Pasig Writers Workshop.

Ngunit huwag mangamba, asahan mong sisikapin ng AGOS ng PASIG na magkaroon ng palihan kada taon.

Bilang kaibigan sa panulat, gusto kong sabihin sa iyo: kahit hindi ka umabot sa deadline, ang mahalaga ay ang danas at ang kapit nun sa personal na sensibilidad. Pakatandaan ang tindi ng sigasig sa pagtatagpi ng mga salaysay at pagpapadaloy ng iyong boses sa mga kwento na magbibigay kulay sa ating munting bayan.

Nang sa gayon, mas tukoy mo na ang disiplina ng pagsusulat.

Lavarn lang! ✊🫠

May next year naman,

Maria Ella Betos
President

Deadline

00:01 PHT, #TheBank MPR Flr 8

Hours ticked as fast as my fingers tapping the keyboard. My eyes were hovering over the number of tax lot breaks all throughout the first half of my day, while a simple glimpse on the phone that never stopped beeping with mail alerts, hours before the cut-off.

Just like New York Stock Exchange, hopeful workshoppers placed their bets on their craft, wishing to be part of this second citywide workshop.

And at the struck of midnight, I sent the last email response:

“Kaibigan, magwagi!

Ikaw ang pinakahuling nagpasa ng akda para sa ikalawang palihang panlungsod ng Pasig!

Mangyari po lamang na hintayin ang anunsyo kung kayo po ang isa sa mga napili na magiging fellow sa darating na 2nd Pasig Writers Workshop.”

Then at 00:01: a radio silence.

Naruto Dimple

First Draft of Ani41 Submission. Names are deliberately changed so that those who knew the characters will not be stalked. Him and his self-absorbed social media footprint.

It was Day3 of the Vietnam itinerary. Desert sunrise trip cancelled because of the rain from the prior day, so we opted to visit Cu Chi tunnels. All tours are unavailable, so we embarked ourselves on a DIY trip. We used to do conversations in transit so on the bus ride, we continued in our nostalgic narratives.

Of course, with our senses at jumpstart, we re-discussed the day’s logistics, expected expenses, and re-calculation of the ETDs and ETAs. Where to eat will come at a certain point, we were not hungry yet. Then comes those wishful thinking about goals for the family. I mentioned, “As long as buhay si Mama, I soldier on”. He planned to create a grander ancestral home, a big place for a reunion whenever he comes home.

Today, I wonder if he is into that goal still or he just say it to symphatize with me and my large family…?

It suddenly got shifted to the books we read (and I knew at once that he is not a reader, he was just saying the books he curiously browsed in his younger years), Game of Thrones memes (because I have little interest in doing a marathon of the whole series), and next travel plans (Dubai on November 2020, Tokyo on Olympics was also proposed).

“Si Grace andun sa Japan.”

“Grace? Ex mo?”

“Oo, yung pinakahuli.”

Then he goes along with their backstory, on how a third party came into equation, who’s losing who, and how the new boyfriend overlapped their “sila pa” episodes. He also explained the little things that caused the breakup: lapses in video calls, zero “I love you” declarations, and the fail of the routinary Hello and Goodnight’s. He then stated about being too noisy in facebook, about relationshits being very glaring in social media.

“Kaya ba ganyan ka-self-absorbed ang Facebook and Instagram mo?”

“Oo. ang hirap bumalik sa nakaraan at isa-isa mo syang binubura. Kamukha nun si Mikee Cojuangco, alam mo ba yun? Dalawa dimples sa labi.”

The actress got me triggered. I was that Mikee Cojuangco!!! I remembered my parents saying those because of the similarity with my smile.

“Tumingin ka saken nang maayos! Dalawa rin ang dimple ko, may naruto dimple pa nga ako oh! Biloy lang yan! Alam mo, ang kailangan mo ay hindi [Move on], kundi [Move forward]! Ang kailangan mo ay ang taong makakatanggap ng past mo na yan.”

I was a that point that I wanted to hit him with this punchline “Kasi ako, tanggap kita!”

But I can’t.

I just looked out at the window, a boiling passion dissipated. Clouds from this little black kettle meddled with thin air. I just stared at this motorcycle city called Ho Chi Minh, hoping he felt what I wanted to say.

All I sensed was silence.

Perhaps, that’s how it should all end: with silence.