filipino

Tales of the Corporate and the Synergy of Reader Experience

PRPB’s Book Talakayan of Siege Malvar’s Team Building and Strat Planning

One of the most interesting interviews I’ve done so far happened last Sunday, June 28th at The Stacks, One Ayala. I’ve interviewed several authors before and usually ask about their writing process and the ideas behind their work. But this was the first time I got to interview an author whose books I had actually given a 1-star review. As a critical reader, I felt that I still owed the books—and the author—honest but respectful questions about 𝘛𝘦𝘢𝘮 𝘉𝘶𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 and 𝘚𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘵 𝘗𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨.

We started the discussion with the usual introductions of Pinoy Reads Pinoy Books, its vision to champion Filipinos and their writing, and engagements to the third spaces. Then I asked the audience to introduce themselves with their names, and the water bottle brands they carry. A water bottle is an important belonging to every Pinoy nowadays, and it was also a very important plot device in Siege’s books.

With my tablet, I crafted the questions in “corporate speak”, a language representing different departments of an enterprise. After all, Siege’s Linkedin profile mentions, “sell stories, weaponize truths, and create blueprints for communication”. Using root-cause analysis, I asked the first question, as if “relayed by the Research & Development Department”, and the author said that it was the real-life tragedy that inspired Team Building.

The story came from a deeply personal experience: while attending a company team building outside Manila, his father passed away. On his way home, the van he was riding in got into an accident with a motorcycle, leaving him stranded for hours while waiting for another vehicle. Curious neighbors wondered who the lone passenger was, if he was a politician or an actor avoiding the public, without realizing he was simply grieving. That tension between personal loss and the corporate expectation of building a “family” became the seed for what I like to call his Corporate Cycle Novellas.

I also found it interesting that despite never becoming a fellow in any national writers workshop, he’s very open to literary criticism. He doesn’t see criticism as an attack but as part of the conversation between a writer and different kinds of readers. It was refreshing to hear someone speak so openly about receiving feedback, especially after reading works that I personally didn’t enjoy.

Talking to him also reminded me that authors are often more layered than the characters they create. “As relayed by the metrics of the Human Resources”, I jested, I asked his current state from the spectrum of Sue to Mindy: Sue being the ruthless to people in the team while on the other end, Mindy having the patronizing maternal kindness. He mentioned that in real practice of his career, he is the whole spectrum: he could be as ruthless as Sue and as nurturing as Mindy, which made me appreciate how much of himself he had poured into these stories. He asked me the same question, using the same spectrum. I bluntly answered back with a 95% Sue, while my 5% humanity is poured outside of the Corporate — which is this book club. Perhaps it was also a personal wake up call to treat every encounter with kindness and compassion, even after giving his book a one-star review.

Coming from the Ethics and Governance commitee, I asked, “What haunted him the most about these two novellas?” I expected him to bring up the people within the novellas. That can be the mecha elements overriding Manny Conda’s physicality, or Oliver’s struggle with dissonant psyche (because of the comfortable lifestyle) or even about Miggy’s losing mental capacity (with increasing amounts of administered medicine). I even prompted him, that maybe the island’s mysticism can get him sleepless for a bit. Instead, he pointed to one line from Mindy: “Ang pagtatrabaho nang marangal sa Pilipinas ay araw-araw na pagtaya ng buhay.” That answer completely reframed the conversation. Mindy’s one-liner distills the novella’s central thesis: that for many Filipinos, earning an honest living comes at an unbearable human cost. It also encapsulates the books’ ethical ethos—a persistent interrogation of the systems that demand dignity while making survival increasingly inhumane.

I asked Siege about his roadmapping (“Because the Office of the President asks me so!”), and he shared that he’d like to conclude the Eskinita Imprint as a trilogy, the third novella covering other explorations of characters and their respective arcs. He added that discussions are ongoing with 19th Avenida Publishing about possibly releasing an omnibus edition of Team Building to further expand the universe of PhilNutrition, Inc.

We ended the interview by giving him a faux Owala water bottle—a fitting way to wrap things up, considering how symbolic it is in the novella. It’s a plot device, a marker of social status, and perhaps the most practical reminder of all: stay hydrated while surviving the chaos of corporate life.

*Pinoy Reads Pinoy Books is deeply grateful to Packing Sheets, 19th Avenida Publishing, and One Ayala for making this Book Talakayan possible.*

Gatekeeper Ingga: Ang Huling Orasyon

This is the Young Adult short story submitted to the 2026 Amelia Lapena Bonifacio Writing Workshop of UP Diliman

Alas-singko ng hapon. Quinta Market.

Nakatitig si Mang Al-moslima sa mga pasamano kung saan naka-display ang mga lumang telepono. Ito ang kanyang bentahe dito sa palengke. Sakto at sabado, maraming namamalengke. Maraming magiging kustomer na maaaring mahikayat na bumili sa kanya ng mga vintage phones. May mga araw na kalakasan, may mga araw ring matumal ang bentahan. Ito ang kanyang hanapbuhay: ang bumili ng mga lumang telepono, bubutingtingin nang konti, at irereset ang setting para maibenta ito nang parang bago. At dahil ito ay mga vintage, maraming mga kabataan ang curious sa mga teleponong limitado ang app, o mga naghahanap ng mala-analog para hindi malulong sa social media.

Kasama nitong nagbabantay si Ingga, isang dalagita na mahilig sa gadget at sa computer. Marunong siyang magsetup ng gaming PC kahit luma ang mga piyesa nito. Magaling rin itong mag-unlock ng mga iPhone (na madalas nagiging request sa kanya ng mga ka-eskwela), at magbuild ng experimental OS sa kanyang lumang laptop para hindi madaling ma-hack. Madaling libangin ni Ingga ang sarili sa pagko-code.

Kahit ampon si Ingga ni Mang Al-moslima, itinuring niya rin itong tunay na anak.

“Mang Al, pa-reserve ako ng isang dosenang flip phone dito ah, gagawin kong burner phone!” Sigaw ni Ingga sa may-ari.

“Hay naku, hija, hindi yan libre ah. Ayan ka na naman sa pag-eksperimento mo!”

“Opo, magbabayad po ako. May ipon pa po ako rito. Kailangan ko lang ng maraming backup sa mga ginagawa kong configuration. Mabuti na at handa tayo.”

“Ha? May na-detect bang mga Dagitab ang laptop mo?”

Tinitigan ulit ni Ingga ang upcycled Dell laptop niya at nasa taskbar ang isang alert na may nakasulat na Dagitab Detected! Pagka-click niya rito, bumuklat ang interface na may red dot na nakatutok sa Muralla St. “Oo eh. Baka lumabas sa Intramuros ito at lalong delikado. May mga na-set up naman akong mga burner phone rito, pero kailangan ko pa rin ng reserba.”

“O sige, mag-iingat ka. Gamitin mo na rin yung reserba kong motor. Naka-park sa labas.”

Kumaripas ng takbo si Ingga nang dinugtungan ni Mang Al-moslima ang sigaw, “Huwag kalimutan ang lisensya at ang helmet!”

Bumiyahe si Ingga patungo sa Intramuros, at nag-alert ang kanyang smart watch. Ang red dot ay nasa Intendencia Ruins. Pagkadaan sa Magallanes Drive, napansin niya ang biglang pagdilim ng paligid. Pumarada sya sa malapit na bangko.

Sa kabilang dako, may isang empleyadong babae na naglalakad sa Muralla Street. Katatapos lang ng kanyang trabaho at inaasahan niyang maliwanag pa ang alas-sais, pero nagulat siya na parang bigla ang pagkagat ng gabi. Kailangan niyang magmadali umuwi, delikado kapag madilim.

Hindi niya alam kung ito ay guni-guni pero may naririnig siyang kakaibang mga ugong. Parang may dumadaloy na kuryente sa kalye. Sa kaliwa’t kanan, may mga naglabasan na mga anino at tumambad sa kanyang harapan. Lahat sila parang may wire sa mga mukha. Lahat naka-black suit, at saba’y-sabay na nagsabing, “Halika. Sumama ka sa amin. Sumama ka sa dilim.”

Napasigaw ito sa takot.

Pero nang marinig niya ang paulit-ulit na beep, nagitla sya. Tumigil ang mga Dagitab, tila nagmamatyag kung kanino galing ang tunog. Ang beep na ito ay walang iba kundi galing sa smart watch ni Ingga na handang lumaban sa mga ito.

Binuksan ni Ingga ang dalawang flip phone, naka-set na ang configuration. Kita sa screen ang Santelmo simulation: standby nang bigla niyang hinagis ito sa mga kalaban.

“Ate, takbo!” Ang sigaw niya sa magiging biktima ng mga Dagitab. Nang itong makalayo sa mga kalaban, pinindot niya ang kanyang smart watch at gamit ang bluetooth technology, nagbago ang nakasulat sa phone:

Santelmo simulation: Gate Open.

Bago namatay ang mga phone, lumabas ang malalaking bola ng apoy at kaliwa’t kanan na tinupok ang mga Dagitab. Unti-unti silang naaagnas hanggang sa itong naging maliliit na kristal. May isang tila tatakas sa engkwentro pero hindi ito hinayaan ni Ingga. Iniangat niya ang kanyang kanang braso at sumigaw ng, “Gate Open!” Lumabas ang water blast at naitumba niya ang huling Dagitab.

Ang mga natalong Dagitab ay naging mga maliliit na puting kristal na tila hugis kidlat. Nagkalat sila sa harap ng Intendencia Ruins, at unti-unting naging normal ang paligid. Totoo nga, madilim na sa bandang ito ng Muralla Street kapag alas sais ng gabi.

Inipon ni Ingga ang mga mga maliliit na kristal na ito, mga tinatawag nilang Kidlat. Kailangan niyang ibalik ang mga ito sa tindahan ni Mang Al-moslima. Kailangang ligtas ang mga Kidlat. Kailangan nilang ingatan. Kailangan nilang pag-aralan kung paano maibabalik sa dati ang mga ito. Dahil bago pa sila naging Kidlat, sila ay mga Dagitab. At bago pa sila maging Dagitab, sila’y mga tao rin. Napariwara. Nawala sa tamang landas. At nakianib sa inaakala nilang makakatulong sa kanilang pagginhawa.

Isang Gatekeeper si Ingga. Yun ang tawag sa mga katulad niyang may paranormal na kapangyarihan. Biniyayaan ng mga bathala, para talunin ang mga Dagitab at tumulong sa pagpapanatili ng kapayapaan sa kamaynilaan.

Mabuti at may mga reserba syang flip phone. Sa tulong ng kanyang talento sa computer coding at pag-build ng mga OS, nagagawa niyang magkaroon ng panibagong buhay at layunin ang mga lumang phone: maging artificial gates. Ito ang magiging bala niya kapag maraming Dagitab sa paligid at wala siyang kasamang kumalaban ng mga ito.

Isang Gatekeeper si Ingga. At kasama sa trabaho niya ang pagsara ng huling portal sa Intramuros.

Itinago niya ang mga Kidlat sa kanyang bag at nagsimulang maglakad pabalik sa paradahan ng motor. Kailangan na niya munang ibigay ang mga ito kay Mang Al-moslima, bago gawin ang huling misyon.

Alas-otso y medya ng gabi. Manila Cathedral.

Nakalock ang simbahan.

Tinitigan ni Ingga ang karangyaan ng malaking simbahan. Sinariwa ang paalala ng mga magulang. “Manatiling maging mabuti, makatao, at makatarungan.” Ito ang aral na kanyang isinasapuso at inaalala sa tuwing siya’y sasabak sa laban. Ito rin ang mga huling salita ng kanyang Ina’t Ama sa kanya bago nila isara ang portal sa mismong dambana nito at hindi na nakita.

Ang kwento ni Mang Al-moslima sa kanya, mahigit dalawa’t kalahating dekada na simula nang pumutok ang I Love You Virus. Kasabay nito mismo nagbukas ang mga portal na nasa pitong simabahan ng Intramuros. Habang nasisira ang karamihan sa mga computer at electronic gadget sa buong mundo, nagsimula na ring lumabas ang mga Dagitab – mga masasamang elemento na naghahasik ng lagim at sumasanib sa mga tao para sila ay dumami. Kapag mas masama ang tao, mas madaling maging Dagitab. Hindi maipaliwanag kung bakit nangyari ang ganitong kababalaghan, pero mahabang panahon na rin ang pakikidigma ng mga katulad ni Ingga para isa-isang isara ang mga portal na ito. “Mabilis lang ang mga taon, kaya’t mas magandang maisara agad ang lahat ng portal,” yan ang laging banggit ni Mang Al-moslima, na isa ring Gatekeeper. Sa pamamagitan ng kanyang grupo, naisara nila ang unang portal sa dating kinatitirikan ng Simabahan ng San Francisco noong panahon ng Digmaang Hapon.

Ang unang portal na nabanggit ni Mang Al-moslima ay sa mismong paaralan kung saan nag-aaral ngayon si Ingga. Grade 12 na siya ngayon sa Mapua. Pagkagraduate ng Senior High School, itutuloy nya ang tinahak mula sa STEM learning stream at kukuha ng kursong Computer Science. Maliban sa magagamit niya ang piniling larangan sa kanyang inaasam na karera, ginagamit na niya ang mga natutunan rito bilang Gatekeeper.

Grade 8 siya nang una niyang nalaman ang kanyang kapangyarihan. Isang araw pagkatapos ng kanyang klase sa high school, tinawag siya ni Mang Al-moslima at kinuwento ang kanyang kasaysayan: Siya ang tagapagmana ng kapangyarihan ni Aman Sinaya, ang diyos ng karagatan. Katulad niya, may mga likas na kapangyarihan din ang kanyang mga magulang. Ang kanyang ama, hawak ang biyaya ni Lihangin, kaya Gatekeeper ito ng Bagyo at Unos. Ang kanyang ina nama’y may biyaya ni Alunsina, at naging Gatekeeper ng Liwanag at Buhay. Noong anim na taon si Ingga, inihabilin siya ng kanyang mga magulang kay Mang Al-moslima, at sinabihan ang bata na makinig nang mabuti sa matanda. Maging mabait bilang anak-anakan, at bilang estudyante.

At ito ngang kung kailan sya nasa high school, tinuro sa kanya ang misyon ng isang Gatekeeper. Isang araw, naitanong ni Ingga kung nasaan ang mga kasama ni Mang Al. Malulungkot ang mga mata ng matanda nang itinapat niyang ang mga gatekeeper ay kinukuha ng mga Bathaluman kapag tapos na ang kanilang misyon. Ika nya, maaaring ikawala ng iyong sarili ang labis na pagbubukas ng paranormal na kapangyarihan.

At ito ang maaaring nangyari sa kanyang ama’t ina. Hindi tukoy kung nasaan ang kanilang mga katawan: kung nahigop kasabay ng pagsara ng portal ng Manila Cathedral, o baka na-overuse ng Gate at sila ay naging mga espiritu — mga naging ganap na alagad ng mga Diyos.

Bumulong siya ng isang dasal sa mga magulang na tulungan siya sa pagsasara ng huling portal.

Tumunog ang kanyang smart watch. New message from Hikari. Mukhang hinahanap na siya ng kanyang ate Hikari, isa ring Gatekeeper. Naging estudyante ito ng kanyang ina dahil pareho sila ng kapangyarihan. At katulad ni Ingga, isa itong magaling sa mga makina at motor. Nakatapos ito ng Mechanical Engineering sa Mapua, kaya maalam paano mag-restore ng mga motor at mga lumang sasakyan.

“Ingga, bukas na ang simbahan. Pwede ka nang dumeretso rito.”

Alas-nuwebe ng gabi. Simbahan ng San Agustin, Intramuros.

Pumasok si Ingga loob ng simbahan at itinuon ang pagtitig sa dambana nito. Habang naglalakad patungo sa dambana, tanaw niya ang isang maitim na portal na tila isang puyo ng anino na humihigop ng anumang liwanag at handang maglabas ng panibagong laksa ng mga kalaban. Sa bawat pag-ugong ng portal, ramdam niya ang bigat ng tungkuling isara ang pintuan ng kadiliman bago pa ito tuluyang lumamon sa mundo ng mga tao. Determinado ang kanyang mga mata—isang pagtatagpo ng banal na tapang at ng misteryo ng supernatural.

“Ate Hikari, handa ka na ba?”

Sa gilid ng dambana, nai-set up na ni Hikari ang kanyang generator at laptop. Nakatulos na rin ang mga lightning rods, isa sa bawat sulok. Nakatali sa bawat rod ang burner phone na may Kalasag configuration: Live, na makakatulong na pigilan ang paglabas ng mga Dagitab sa simbahan.

Tumango ang kanyang kausap, “Server is live.”

Kabado si Ingga. Natatakot, pero mas determinado siyang tapusin ito. Dama niya ang bakas ng kasaysayan at pananampalataya ng kanyang mga magulang patungo sa isang bukas na wala na ang mga Dagitab. At kahit ang mga portal na ito ay mananatiling nakasara, at kahit ang mundo ay patuloy sa pag-ikot, ipinapangako niyang mananatili ang kapayapaan at patuloy nilang itataguyod ang pamumuhay nang marangal at makatarungan.

Tumayo sya sa gitna ng dambana. Bumuntong-hininga. “Ina, Ama, narito na ako.”

Binuksan niya ang kanyang jacket at naroon sa inside pocket ang apat na burner phone. Lahat naka-calibrate sa Alunsina configuration, kapareho ng frequency sa likas na kapangyarihan ng kanyang ina. Sa pamamagitan ng lumang smart watch, pagka-on ng bluetooth, inihagis niya ang at lumitaw sa screen: Alunsina simulation: Gate Open.

Ito ang kanyang huling orasyon.

Figuring Out the Logistics of Loss While Inside the Hospital Wards

At hour 8 of “watcher duties”, the sleepiness and my adrenalin goes into a battle. The need to be alert wins via the blue light of this mobile phone, as I type away that same prompt I had in my head when I wanted to write about the grief of my old luggage, staying in Taichung HSR as I roll the newly-bought one. In the same manner as I watch my father struggling with a deep sleep, I imagined all the beautiful memories of Japan with my American Tourister. Suddenly he sleeptalked, “Kailan ba matatapos ang hinayupak na paghihirap na ito para sa malalim na tulog?”

A friend asked via IG earlier, “Do we look kindly to our family when we see them frail and weak?” All I had was indifference in this very minute, but in hindsight, an anxiety looms about tanking the projected hospital bills (ergo, putting the current travel lifestyle on hold). What about Kiudkad staycation and hike? The SG visit? The Kazakhstan nomad reels? The Taiwan Alpine trail? Should my life be on pause just because the old guy demands it so…?

Hormonal Whaling

14 January 2026. 4:30 AM. Pasig City.

Waning Nights and Luteal Phases: these are some of the aggravators of the loneliness resurfacing from the depths of my mind.

Symptoms started upon him ghosting. Cold turkey. I sincerly disclosed my huge mortgage and its debt servicing until 2037, together with most of my siblings out of the country. I also told him about my generational trauma and opting to be childfree. In this hour, my mind was shouting,

“I’m too broken to be fixed, too expensive to be compensated.”

Too big to brag, or even drag along. Too cute to be a friend. Too innocent to be a girlfriend. A perfect BEBU: bembang buddy.

Funny.

But to keep that in your head throughout the commute from the family home is really taxing. When I was supposed to summon the conscious mind and focus on the next task of putting away these newly-cleaned clothes, the hindsight was internalizing Bon Jovi’s I’LL-BE-THERE-FOR-YOU-THESE-FIVE-WORDS-I-SWEAR-TO-YOU blasting inside kuya grab’s Vios, battling the sleepiness hours before the dawn.

I just wanted a company until I am older and retired from the Corporate ladder. I wish to message him again. Tell him, “Hey. It’s okay that you won’t pick me. I get it. But I still want to be a friend.”

I still crave for a single man as a friend. A man who will make me feel safe, even though his english sounds like a cut and paste from Chatgpt.

And yet, the luteal phase still wins. Justin Bieber’s “I’d settle for the ghost of you” reverberates this posporo condo, its annual association dues recently settled, bearing a smaller amount to pay the remaining balance of my Taiwan travel and hike.

On good days, we are the art. On bad days, we create the art.

-Alan Navarra, Falling Apart by Design

Huh. Perhaps a small win in this agonizing season is this diary entry. A little life (update) of sorts. I cannot wait for the day of my period where all of these will be washed away. But for now, I grieve.

18 January 2026. 5:00AM. UP Los Baños.

Second day of period today.

Not exactly a mental health break, but yesterday was a great detox from the busy city life. Expensive though. To go to the Aliw falls, we have to pay 300 per person, drove around Caliraya and Cavinti and Luisiana towns and witness a natural resource being gentrified. Hello, there’s a helicopter and a pyramid on top of a hill! NUGAGAWEN?! Sigh. Para talaga sa mga jejemon eh.

Charles and I caught up on things: his Think Tank and Teaching gigs, the co-parenting and its exit strategy out of Pinas for an NZ citizenship, his “Persondi” the law student 6 years his junior; In exchange, my reliving travel moments with dok as a potato princess, my sentiments in the Bible “as the only good book”, Cognitive Behavior Therapy, and the fucken Peranakan who ghosted me and costed me a hormonal breakdown.

Told him the same, “I’m too broken to be fixed, too expensive to be compensated, Charles.” He suddenly answered—

“And you are! And yet, you are thriving!”

Ang layo na sa sinabi niya noong, “Nai-insecure ako sa achievements mo!” in our big quarrel (which was a reason for breakup, btw). That must have altered my brain chemistry.

Siguro at this point, I just want to take everything with grace and not assume things. I do crave those organic encounters, not gonna lie. Hopeful pa rin ako sa marriage. I just wanted a life partner who is okay with me being childfree, and who accepts me for all that I am. Super bonus points na yung exuding effeminate energy and hindi forever golden source ang self-help sa pagbabasa.

Speaking of reading, I was too comfortable with Charles driving me around and too tired from puyat, I took a nap upon checking in SEARCA Hotel (inside UPLB). Good thing this guy has reserved a room for me. The hotel amenities are very much comfortable. Clean toilet and hot shower! I am amazed that this was built from the 70s and still being used for conferences. Pwede na ito for team building or writing workshop activities!!!

I must dedicate some morning moments to at least read. Buti na lang masarap yung tirang adobong itik from Las Cadias Wellness Resort. A bit expensive though.

Oh this can choke!

Putting this screenshot so that I will not forget. Entering relationships should not diminish the respect— to yourself and to your significant other.

Kahit alam nating mahirap mahalin ang Pilipinas, hindi dapat mahirap mahalin ang ating mga sarili at ang ating mga nagiging atin.

Thanks for the power of screenshot. Just like writing, this should never be out of the system.

Happy birthday, Mr. C!

Dear Charlie,

Happy birthday! How does it feel to be a 39-year-old-high-functioning adult? Me? I am barely getting by without shedding a tear every day.

Pagkagising ko, yung nanay ko kino-call out yung laki ng katawan ko. Perhaps out of concern, but I felt like it was out of spite. At her timeline reaching 39, she was pregnant to my youngest brother (to which I became a co-parent of), and papa was punishing her by handwashing a king-sized bedsheet, without any help from her kids. She almost had miscarriage with JB. She was so thin, kind of a trauma response to the survival mode. And I believe she felt alone at that phase of her life.

At 39, I feel like I was living mama’s alternate reality: Literally living alone, yet thriving in the Corporate career she aspires — just received a good news of huge promotion, forging and / or fortifying communities from her interests and hobbies, saving up for travels and retirement, essentially “winging adulting”. And yet, when I sat down in my home office, I feel the heavy weight of her feisty reminder,

“Magpa-check ka na ng katawan mo at ang laki mo na!”

This afternoon, albeit relatively felt okay, I was suddenly thrusted into a anxious spiral of body dysmorphia and the seething sentiment of:

I am still not enough.

That daydream goes back as my totem and my solace. If only I was that wife, I will be definitely out of this timeline. Lord, sana maumpog na siya and he would woo me! Susubukan ko magpakipot, kahit alam ng mundo na marupok ako.

Sorry Charlie, oversharing. Kindly ignore those long sentences. What I really wanted to say was I wish you a moment of peace and a feeling of abundance.

You are enough.

Thank you for being a friend.

Experiencing the Pocketbook Nostalgia

Book review of Ang Diary ni Joaquina by Joi Barrios

Long ago, I used to read romance pocketbooks through borrowing these Precious Hearts Romances for 10 pesos. This was way back CPA review school years, before Facebook. The old lady was stationed near the Book Sale-Pedro Gil Branch, just across the queues for Guadalupe-L Guinto jeepney. Once borrowed, I read it throughout the commute and return the same novel the next day, after the review classes in Business Law and Taxation (BLT).

Romance tropes are very marketable works from way back late ’90s, and almost all of them are formulaic, with unrealistic expectations, superficial dramas, and yet ends with a “happy ever after”. And even so, my 2007 kilig-kilig chenes era devoured these romantic tropes as an escape from the rigorous practice board exams.

However, if I read Joi Barrios’ Joaquina then, it would greatly elevated my reading progress from mere flimsy and mushy kaluguran daku’s since this piece of craft involves social activism as part of its world-building; these societal issues define the characters and their motivations and motions. For me, this kind of “panitikan ng pakikisangkot” should gain more traction in the Pinoy romance literary landscape. I remember reading the same vibe, albeit in English language, and that was Ana Tejano’s debut novel (with SocDev / NGOs as part of the overarching theme).

Kudos to Gantala Press for reprinting this after more than 20 years. A bit expensive though— considering the paper quality and the font size (reason for a 1 star deduction). Indeed, a main challenge for indie presses is to distribute good books at an affordable prices. I suddenly miss the 10pesos price tag in renting a book (yes, I am calling out the PH Government; please provide printing subsidies for quality books. Better yet, BUILD MORE LIBRARIES!!!)

Workshop Letter of Intent

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 39^th 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.)

Diary Entry ng isang Watsons Saleslady

15 Agosto 2025. Biyernes. Alas sais ng umaga. Maulan.

Minsan naiisip ko kung ang pagsusulat ng ganito ang paraan para hindi makalimot. Pero sige na nga. Tatlong araw na akong absent at kailangan ko nang pumasok. Maaga naman akong nagising. Maaga rin ang ulan. Dinig ko ‘yung patak sa yero, parang paulit-ulit na paalala na hindi pa rin tapos ang gabing iyon. Dito sa maliit kong bahay sa Pinedang looban, kahit ang ulan parang may ingay ng galit. Binunot ko ang palanggana mula sa ilalim ng lababo. Hindi ‘yung plastik na puti. Yung isa. Yung stainless. Malamig sa kamay. Mabigat. Parang may memorya.

Noong isang araw, doon siya nilagay. Isang nilalang na hindi pa buo, hindi pa lumalaban.
Nilapag ng nurse sa loob ng palanggana, parang basang piraso ng karne. Walang tunog, pero sa isip ko, rinig na rinig ko ang kalampag — ‘yung tunog ng laman sa bakal.

Plak. Gano’n ba talaga ang tunog ng kamatayan?

Ngayon, nilagyan ko ng tubig ‘yung palanggana. Nilabhan ko ‘yung panty kong may natuyong dugo, ‘yung T-shirt kong may bahid ng sugat galing sa ER. Pati ‘yung bra na pinunit niya noong gabi bago ‘ko tumakbo paospital. Hindi ako nagpasundo. Wala rin naman akong matatawagan. Wala akong kapamilyang malapit. Takot din ang mga kapitbahay. Tinibayan ko ang loob ko at mag-isang umuwi mula Rizal Medical, buti na lang at malapit.

Pero kamakailan lang, tumawid ako sa mismong overpass, gabing-gabi, habang hawak ‘yung puson kong parang pinupunit sa loob. Sa ilalim ng ilaw ng poste, tinangka pa niyang habulin ako. Naririnig ko pa boses niya habang tumatakbo ako: “’Wag kang maarte, ikaw may kasalanan nito!” Gusto ko siyang sigawan, sabihing, “Hindi ako makina!” Pero wala na kong boses. Naiwan na sa bahay.

Pagdating ko sa ospital, duguan na ‘yung shorts ko. Tinanong ako ng nurse kung ilang buwan na. Limang buwan, ‘ka ‘ko. Walang luhang lumabas.

Mula kagabi, dama ko pang parang wala na akong tubig sa katawan. Nilabhan ko na lahat sa luha. Habang kinukusot ko ‘tong panty, naiisip ko ‘yung tunog ng pagkakalapag sa palanggana. Parang hindi siya nawawala. Parang sumasabay sa bawat kusot. Plak. Plak. Plak. Kahit wala na siya, parang naririnig ko pa rin ang paghinga niya, kung meron man.

Hindi ako pumasok kahapon sa Watsons. Pero ngayon, kailangan na. 3-day sale. Nag-text si Ma’am Liza kagabi: “Pumasok ka bukas, kulang sa tao.” Walang tanong kung kumusta ba ako, o kung ayos lang ako. Wala rin naman akong maisasagot.

Magmi-makeup ako mamaya. Light lang. Para matakpan ‘yung pasa sa ilalim ng mata. ‘Yung gasgas sa labi. Sa counter, babati ako ng, “Ma’am, may card po kayo?” kahit ang gusto ko talagang itanong ay, “Ma’am, may pakialam po ba kayo?”

Wala.

Itinapon ko na ‘yung tubig. Itinabi na ang palanggana. Pero alam ko, sa susunod na gabi, baka magamit ko ulit siya. Baka hindi para maglaba. Baka ako naman ang ilagay doon.

Pero hindi pa ngayon.

Ngayon, kailangan ko pang magsuklay. Mag-sanitize ng tester. Magpahid ng lip tint.

At ngumiti.

Kasi wala namang bonus sa pagdurusa. Pero may kaltas sa late.

Poetics: Hinarabas ko ito nang magpost si Nap Arcilla ng isang patimpalak sa facebook. Ang criteria ng dagli: palanggana. Hanggang ngayon, wala akong balita kung nanalo ba ako o anuman. Sayang. Pero minsan, naiisip ko rin ang mga minimum-wage earner katulad ni Ate sa Watsons.

Hajimete no Onsen Taiken

(My very first Onsen experience)

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.