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.)
08 October 2025 19:15 Yol Guesthouse Takeo City, Saga Prefecture
In the same entrance I found myself excited to try this Town’s proof of jumping back to its pre-lockdown years: Onsen is now back for business!
Takeo Onsen is a sleepy town. Like Hida City in Gifu. Two main differences are: Onsen is more famous in Takeo and Beef is better in Gifu.
In the genkan I find myself being lost with two sets of lockers: One for the outside shoes, the other for your phone and other valuables. Turned out, you cannot use your phone inside. Let alone take photos upon entering the Moto Yu bathhouse. I find myself lost, yet again, in a community of obaachans bringing their luxurious soaps and serums, their designer bags locked away with the ¥100 old-style coin locker. Turned out, yet again, I was the most morena and the most fuwa-fuwa (plumpiest) contender to do the ceremony. I was also the dumbest: I forgot my personal care set from the coin locker. I only brought my adaptability life skill and a towel strip for my hair.
At the wash area, there are two huge bottles, free to use. The Liquid body wash and the combined shampoo and conditioner are on standby. I hope I won’t get dandruff agter using these Japanese concoctions on my scalp.
While shampooing I caught myself being stared at by the obaachan on my right. Was she sizing me up? Do I look like gaikokujin enough? Even though I lacked the expertise of reading kanji, I can speak their language… nanto naku. Somehow.
When I was about to execute the script in my head with “Shiitsure desu ne,” or in Tagalog, “Nakakabastos naman ate,” a voice from my far left said something like [Going to the pool]. But with a Hakata ben — a different sound from the Far East Tokyo (and their differing Keigo or Japanglish), or the midwest Kansai region (with statements ending with a meow sound).
Ahh. These obaachans must be friends.
After my intense wash and multiple use of the little basin to acclimitize my overweight physique, I fixed my hair. Then I covered it with the mini towel I brought, And finally, dipped my legs to the 44 celsius Onsen heat. It stings at first, not being used to the very hot pool, together with the risk of being easily dehydrated. Its first three minutes a painful reminder that we do not have this back home — that little posporo condo got no built-in heater in the shower — because I don’t want my electric bill to balloon with my never-ending mortgage! Then comes that soothing comfort, a scene from the anime shouting “woooh!!! kimochii!!!” and then the pause, just chilling and watching the steam take away the fatigue and the bad vibes.
The obaachan from before is about to join me in this large hot pool, yet stationed herself on the opposite end, sitting beside her “friend” (neighbor, perhaps?). Other obaachans went to the cooler section, their backs very red from where I am now seated.
These obaachans, I wonder if they do this regularly? Do they establish a routine of onsen trips? And if they do, won’t they feel awkward?
If Tricia and Lyra and I plan a trip together and go to an onsen as a culminating itinerary and a test of companionship, will they be absolutely delighted? Or will they respond with the polarizing take — being terrified? Aba’y paano na ang test of friendship na yan? Lol. Maybe at this point, it will be harder for it to come true, since both of them are already married — and one of them already have a boy having random fits of kakulitan and temper tantrums.
And maybe instead of waiting for the “culminating itinerary”, I went for it and experience the onsen in solitude.
ALONE X TOGETHER: A beauty that is transient and fleeting in a shared space. Sobremesa can be a nice ring to it, although the spanish loan-word is more apt to a dining table, a perfect setting to the current ordeal of writing a creative nonfiction with a Spanish-Japanese haafu eating bento in front of me. Konbanwa, ate!
I’d like to link this little onsen adventure as a wabi-sabi experience. After all, taking a bath is supposed to be a solitary activity. But onsen made it more unique, akin to a sense of community. Without speaking to each other, you share the same desire of removing fatigue and the same challenge of scrubbing your own back with the little towel one tows upon sliding the door open to the huge hot basin.
Flashing back to the logistics of the hot bath, one obaachan said she’ll go ahead and dry up. Upon standing I saw her very red back, her skin as perfect as the newly-cooked shrimp. Meanwhile, I stared at my legs and it looked like a perfectly roasted chicken: a reddish-brown specimen ready to be eaten. Ano raw?! Hahaha tama na nga! Hmn! I got myself changed and hair dried. Upon buying a cold bottle of fanta I saw the other obaachan and shouted “Oi! Ikku da tou!” Not directed to me, but to an old man watching the weather forecast for the next day, his wet hair too close to the TV.
And after a little post-onsen foot massage for ¥100, I exited the place. Sleepy, yet tottemo satisfied.
Book Review of What Light It Can Hold Edited by Gerald Burns and Jose Dalisay, Jr.
What Light It Can Hold is a collection of Filipino writers with their stories released after the millenium bug hey-days. I admire the curation, it has representations across the regions and also the male, female and queer demographic (please correct me if I am wrong on this).
I read the collection at a random pace. In one sitting, I read the first and the last story, and in the other days, I pick whatever I feel like reading. The first and the last story indeed tie the theme behind the books title. Casocot’s Things You Don’t know ended in a sunset (or dusk) scene of confessions and a touch of hope, while Groyon’s The Haunting Martina Luzuriaga ended with a new day with its sunbeam erasing the sad past and an epiphany after years of solitude. I appreciate how endings and beginning weave through these respective stories. As the introduction alludes, the book echoed the idea of fragility and illumination.
What I find challenging (aside from my daily Corporate grind) is the search for the contemporary themes that seem to be limited across the collection. I was actively looking for the use of social media, online bullying and cancel culture, the emergence of memes, bekimon vocabulary, or even some snippets of millennial activities of undeground indie bands, collective jogging, and heavy use of technology, or bitcoin grind. Where is the onslaught of the 2008 Financial crisis, or even scamming via Multilevel Marketing? Though the stories are okay with its overarching themes of injustices and powerplay, family bonds, or Love, maybe I was actively reaching for a distinct flavor of a craft (being a millennial myself, overusing parenthesis, oxford commas and em dashes — a punctuation politically being a pet peeve by AI detectors).
What the collection showed me instead are remnants of the B-type movie from 80’s (Tenorio’s Monstress), or early 90’s sea travels (Pagliawan’s Manila-Bound), or late ’90s elementary school bullying (Habana’s The Mop Closet). All of them are marvelous on their own ways — especially the moniker “Monstress” — but these allusions are not in 21st century, but rather, they are remnants of the previous one being carried by the writers themselves. The only hallmark 21st century storyline for me personally is seething through Bengan’s Armor and his storytelling of the Davao Death Squad conflict (if I may say so).
I do hope that there will be another collection that can tackle the more recent events or timelines, or maybe the pens respsonsible for them belong to us now, the contemporary consumers and players of the post-pandemic hyperrealities.
For now, I soldier on.
My question after seeing the dark skies and its looming heavy rainfall
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.
Sent and unsent in IG after him reading everything. But this is a good material to continue writing about existential dreads and limbo moments. Fcuk, I do have lots of material about it.
♫♪♫ Honey, you’re familiar Like my mirror years ago ♫♪♫
I woke up in the wee hours of morn, realizing that whatever I have with you now, is a result of that letter-sending LDR lifestyle with an engineer in Riyahd before I met you.
Naalala ko lang nang magkita kami, hindi kami romantically swak.
He has dreams in Batangas, building a big ancestral home for his family, doing the ultimate breadwinner gig. I was about to settle for that lifestyle at that time, kasi wala akong mahanap na matinong lalake na lisensyado na may kotse at mataas ang net worth (Sorry, very pragmatic. Mataas din standard.)
Turned out, he was very DDS. Very blind.
Polarizing ang aming socio-political outlook. Maybe that’s why sa simula pa lang, hindi meant to be.
I was just on denial because I was looking at the possibilities.
Then when I broke up with you, because of this same LDR issue and you not really contacting me (and it still stings, from time to time) this random accountant suddenly appear in my IG memes, and he too is a successful accountant in Singapore (Exec Director for Tax Accounting, btw). LDR comms for months, pragmatic topics of him being the middle child with breadwinner duties in his large farmland in Nueva Ecija.
When we met, we became instant friends. Core memories formed, some moments became very sacred. It was a big deal for me at that time, I was broken na broken and questioning my life decisions. Even confided to him na okay ako na walang sexual contact, because I was looking for a life partner at 2023. I don’t even want a kid (kakahinga lang from raising 2 siblings, kaka-graduate lang ni bunso).
Turned out, he was gay. He liked men more. He even apologized for giving me a sob trope— I told him I wanted to meet him so that I can size myself up for the challenge.
Naisip ko, siguro kapag nagmamahal ako, may dalumat ng distansya — sa danas, sa damdamin, at sa desisyon.
With you, now— it’s me applying all these practices of feeling detached and feeling ignored. But somehow I can cope with the truth of legalities and traumas that I am trying to heal with. I see you sometimes as a “20’s na 50’s”, because you were too young to be a father, and you were traumatized by a failed romance.
Pareho tayong humahabol na balikan ang mga pagkakataong nawala sa atin noong bata, pero sa magkaibang paraan.
Like at this moment, I ask myself: kapag pinakasalan ko ba ito, will he settle with us opting to be childless? Because I am not sure if he’s up for the challenge. What made me unsure of you sometimes? I think it’s the romantic dynamic that we have.
Yes, I did decide that we should have no labels to protect my peace. And you perform exactly that — a fuck buddy. No dates, no anniversary. But sometimes, I feel conflicted kasi hindi nawawala ang inggit sa katawan. Gusto ko ring ibibida ka sa mga kaibigan ko, sa mga officemates ko, sa IG, may soft and hard launch. May patweetums moments na hindi ko alam if magagawa natin kasi pareho tayong awkward, haha!
I don’t know. Siguro naging big deal (sa akin) ang mga plano mong diaspora. At hindi nito basta pagsabi (sa akin). Gets ko naman yun. Mataas naman ang respeto ko sa desisyon mo.
I think more of a “me” thing?
Ako siguro ang may pagkukulang sa bagay-bagay kaya nagiging ganito ang lakad ng buhay.
Pero love kita. Totoo yung pa-iloveyou ko (and you not replying to it is understandable). I do feel conflicted. Siguro kapag tinanong mo ano ang gusto ko, sasagot ako at ang balik nun ay magso-sorry ka, kasi hindi mo kayang tugunan ngayon.
Noong nakaraang Pasko, nagkita-kita ang mga magkakapatid na Betos para sa isang munting salu-salo, at para ipakilala ng bunsong kapatid ang kanyang kasintahan sa amin. First time naming makikita ang dalaga. At sa aming limang magkakapatid, apat kaming nagkita-kita para sa hapunan at hapag-kwentuhan. Dalawa sa amin ay umuwi pa galing abroad (Si Kuya galing Germany, si Kiteh galing Japan).
Kasama ng mga pag-update sa kani-kaniyang buhay ay nabanggit ang kwento ng mga magulang: kung kumusta na ba sila ngayong lahat ng kanilang mga supling ay tuluyan nang lumikas sa malungkot na family home; usapang diaspora, kung sino sa aming natitirang dalawang magkapatid ang mananatili sa Pilipinas; at sa usaping paghahanda sa retirement, o pagkakasakit, o kung ito na ba ang aming magiging buhay sa mahabang mga taon. Hanggang sa naisama sa huntahan ang usapin ng mga magkakaibang antas ng gitnang uri: kung saan na ba kami nabibilang, kung kami man ay malayo na sa kinagisnang iskolar ng bayan (tatlo sa limang magkakapatid ay nag-kolehiyo sa pampublikong Pamantasan), at kung kami ba ay manantiling mulat at ang adhika ay pang-masa at lapat sa lupa.
Nalungkot ang bunsong kapatid.
“Ate, tibak man ako noon, pero anong magagawa nating mga nilalamon na ng Corporate? We need to grind, because we need to live. Malungkot nga lang kasi, after all those years from student activism, I am slowly becoming the one I have sworn to hate.”
Naisip ko, ganun ba kaliit ang mundo ng gitnang uri? Malawig ito, at may mga tao at pamilyang may mas “aware” sa mga access na natatamo nila bilang may-kaya. Humupa ang lungkot nang masabi ko sa kanya na kailangan lang niyang maging malapit sa mga kaibigan na nakakaramdam ng parehong dilemma.
“Katulad ng friend mo na nag-shift, tignan mo, gina-grind din niya ang isang karera na taliwas sa grinadweyt mo.” Ang naturang kaibigan ni JB (palayaw naming sa bunsong kapatid), ay may condo sa BGC, nag-aaral sa UP ng ibang kurso. Nabanggit ko rin na kailangan niya lang ng community as “accountability buddy” o magiging tanggulan mo sa iyong personal na ideolohiya at bahagi ng iyong moral compass kung ang puso mo ay nalalayo na sa pagmamahal mo sa bayan.
Natawa rin ako sa sarili dahil marami akong naging adhika nang ako ay magsimula as Banker sa malaking korporasyon: nariyan ang Pinoy Reads Pinoy Books (PRPB) na nagpo-promote ng diwa ng pagbabasa at pagbu-book review bilang pagsasanay sa pagbabasa nang may pagsusuri; at may isang writer’s group na nabuo mula sa 2024 Citywide Workshop— ang AGOS ng PASIG. Bumalik kami sa balitaktakan ng gitnang uri at ang pagiging malaking seksyon ito ng socio-economic class, at nailapag ko sa mga kapatid na gusto ko kumatha ng isang kwento ng dalawang binatang magkaibigan na nagkabaligtad ang kanilang mga paniniwala dahil sa mga danas nila sa magkaibang baitang ng pagiging gitnang uri.
Ginamit ko ang Barangay Pineda at Barangay Kapitolyo ng Pasig bilang setting ng aking akda. Kasabay ng paahon at pababang mga kalsada ng dalawang pamayanan ay nagamit ko rin ito bilang isang metro (or metric) kung paano nagkakaiba ang sensibilidad sa pagpapalaki ng pamilya at kinagisnang kabataan kahit sa kwento, ang dalawang karakter ay parehong nag-aral sa iisang Elementary School. Magandang mekanismo ng diskurso ang topograpiya ng umaalong lugar, at pwede rin itong iangkla ang pagkakaintindi ng mga tao sa napapanahong paksa ng troll farms at disinformation campaign.
Sana lamang ay nabigyan ko ng hustisya ang sentimiyento ng aking bunsong kapatid sa pamamagitan ng pagkatha nitong maikling kwento.
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.
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.”
Published in the Literary Tuesdays of Mountain Beacon
“Kuya, daan tayo sa mahiwagang portal! Ipapakita ko sa inyo…”
Isang napakahabang street, taliwas sa regular na bagtasan ng mga galing kyusi, ang Sta. Teresa De Avila. Ito ang aking mahiwagang shortcut mula sa condo papunta sa opisina ko sa BGC. Katapat ang ilog na naghahati sa dalawang lungsod: Ang Pasig kung saan ako naging batang yagit; at ang Makati kung saan ako minulat ng pag-aaral, ng nagtataasang mga gusali, at ng katotohanang sila ang kuta ng mga naghaharing-uri. Ang aking nakilalang Makati, na sa isang iglap ay biglang sinakop ng Taguig.
Katulad ng Ilog Pasig na natutuyo sa tag-init at sapilitang nilalamon ng putik, tila sapilitang nilulukob ang kinagisnang EMBO ng BGC. Tinatago ng mga naglilipanang gusali ang tunay na nagpapawis, makabayad lang ng overwhelming buwis na dapat ay para sa mga burgis. Paano pa ba makakatipid sa pasahe at gastusin kung sa ilang linggong paparating ay araw-araw nang papapasukin (sa opisina)? Minsan, gusto ko na lang tumalon sa ilog at magpaanod dahil ang buhay recently ay nakakapagod…
Pero heto ako, patuloy na lumalangoy sa mahiwagang portal mula sa opisina, pabalik sa bayang naging taal.
Pagkatapos ng PRPB Book Talakayan, sumama ako sa mga kaibigang dumalaw sa Silingan Coffee. Ang sabi-sabi, may kaunting pa-party ang mga may-ari. Dahil masyadong maaga kami dumating, nakita ko ang pagse-set up sa labas ng tindahan: laptop at speaker, mic, camera, mga mesa at upuan. Hindi pa fully ready, kaya naghapunan muna kami.
Pagbalik muli sa kapehan ay nakita namin ang kainitan ng kantahan ng mga kababaihan ng Silingan— mga nanay, lola, at ate; mga human rights advocate, trauma counselor at jounalist — mga babaeng naging kaibigan at kaanak ng mga biktima ng EJK. Lumapit sa amin ang isa at nag-anyaya na kami’y makikanta at makisayaw sa kakantahin nila sa bidyoke. Maya-maya lamang, siya’y nagsalaysay tungkol sa kanyang lalaking anak na pinaslang ng pulis; tila ang tingin sa kaniyang buhay ay walang saysay. Kahit masaya syang may lumipad sa Hague, bumuntung-hininga siya at sinabing, “Wala namang araw na hindi mabigat. At alam nating simula pa lang ito ng mahabang laban.” Pero biglang kumabig at nagsabing, “Ngayon, hinga muna at pagbigyan ang sarili. Mag-celebrate sa little win.”
Habang kinakanta nila ang Tatsulok, hindi ko mapigilang makikanta at isigaw ang “Hangga’t marami ang lugmok sa kahirapan, at ang hustisya ay para lang sa mayaman!” Batid ko, kasama ng sanlaksang kababaihang nakiki-jamming, na mahaba pa ang laban. Na kailangan nating mas maging matatag. Sa araw-araw, tapang ang ating tangan.
Tila bumulong muli ang tanong ng author sa pinanggalingang panayam, “Ella, hindi ka rin ba nasusugatan?” Kasabay ng biglang pag-alala ay ang aking paghawak sa mukhang tila nilamig ng minsanang hangin ng gabi.
Yun pala… May mata nang tumubig. May luha sa pisngi.
mariaellabetos.com 