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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
