life – Page 6

Sulking and Burrito

Initial draft of the CNF submitted to Anselmo Press

Newsflash: my SoKor trip is now cancelled, thanks to that Daegu cult activity infecting around 80 in one go. It has been more than a year since the girls booked the promo flights, more than a month to check on available hotels and rough-drafting the itinerary (especially Korean skincare shopping). We even got our visas approved, hoping that this new wave of SARS won’t catch us. One of the girls almost got her visa on cancelled status, but was all a bluff — only to find out that we are cancelling the travel 48 hours before the actual flight.

I even prepared for a week-long leave for this, only to realize that the #HeySeoulSistas hashtag will not be appearing on my instagram feed. Hays, andaming tampo na, good thing I can avail this day as a leave.

So, instead of a Seoul day, today is designed to be Errands day. I am tasked to pay all outstanding bills, to recheck all my savings, and to buy groceries and medicine for Mama. After that, I deserve to have a date. You have to take me to dinner. We talked about this: cancel flight = extra moments for us. You said this can be done, “Ano ba naman yang Corona, hindi naman tayo mamamatay diyan.”

Tasks ticked, sunset came and went. I text you:

Nasaan ka na? Bakit hindi ka nagme-message?!

By nighttime, I feel resigned. It has been a day of errands sans date. You stood me up. I have a feeling that you have no reliever on your ER shift (which is most likely, news always mention the lack of medical personnel and our dismal healthcare). Heck, you never replied. It’s another episode of a solo dinner. No, I am so used to eating alone, and so used to promises being kept, this is why I am sulking. Andami ko na ngang tampo, dumagdag ka pa.

Today I learned that: I go to this specific Army Navy bistro and sulk away my clingyness by eating their Burritos. I dunno, if I keep track of all the errands day, this will be the third time. What a perfect night to revolt, actually — I go to that very place you aren’t fond of, like a rebel soldier joining the resistance, eating dishes that you don’t like.

Everytime I go to this place, I have assigned myself a mission. It’s all straightforward, no room for rants and raves. I am drafted to order straight to the counter, taking mental notes of each and every item on the menu. You read the green sign. There’s Steak, Chicken, Carnitas; there’s Vegetable burrito. The more I feel the need to sulk, the more I eat their PI varieties – Adobo Flakes and Sisig baboy. PI may mean Private investigator, but for me, it was my personal trashtalk to the circumstances – Putangina. “Mam paorder po ng putangina burrito – the Adobo flakes, yes.”

I position myself next to the spicy condiments – the Green Chili sauce with one month expiry, the Caracoles ageing six months, and that seemingly artificial salsa hot sauce, with an age of at least two years. Then there’s salt and pepper, the typical couple go-tos when you feel the need for splashing additional taste.

However, I’d still stick to that fresh Salsa by the counter. The same salsa that you loathe, because of its distinct aroma. And you don’t like its aftertaste. Realizing this throughout our dates, my mind blasted to that side dish, took a cupfull and let its smell reek in me. This, I believe, is my weapon, for sulking tonight. I imagine you squirming and telling me to take it away, and I will guffaw at your pathetic defeat. I should eat this with gusto, ASAP.

PI Burrito comes and I look at it: MESSY. But its colors and its variety, it kind of shades my dark mood. The cover, albeit a plain wheat, has a strong mexican aroma. Top it with Caracoles and some splash of Salsa, the mind zones out from sulking and in to munching.

I eat the whole lot in less than 10minutes – swallowing like a real soldier. Suddenly, my sulking dissipated. I don’t feel mad at the world, or at the circumstance of the little reality that caused my sulking. In a span of 10-minute self-diner date, I forgot the truth that I got stood up, and I received a message to confirm it: you are extending your ER shift tonight. I go out of that bistro with a sigh and a happy tummy. After all, “Come in Hungry, Walk out Happy.”

So, sulking addressed and done. I choose to understand. I walk home and turned on the TV. It is only later tonight that my mission changed. No more of the green and white interiors. No more of the status of being drafted. And no more happy tummy. Because my tummy got worried upon the President’s announcement that effective immediately, the whole Luzon is now declared under Enhanced Community Quarantine (ECQ).

There will be no Sulking, there will be no Burrito rebellion. There is only a Pandemic.

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.

The Quiet Made Some Noise

A Book Talakayan of Glenn Diaz’s The Quiet Ones

This is the First Draft of the Book Discussion log for the Pinoy Reads Pinoy Books #BookTalakayan that happened last July 21, 2018.

It was out of the PRPB monthly routine, the event was the third Saturday rather than the first. And, it was the author’s last hurrah, before flying out to the land down under. Last July 21, in the middle of the rain, flood and traffic, we conducted the Book Talakayan with Glenn Diaz. We found our safe haven in SGD Coffee in UP Teacher’s Village, Quezon City.

Usual events first took place – introducing oneself, what do you do in life, and what is your favorite part of the book. In a circle of more than 15 participants, the common favorite was this:

“We are the City! What is a city without inhabitants? Nothing but plants and hills and rivers. Or flood plains and esteros… The city is not a place. It is a social arrangement. Defined by concession. By consensus. It is us. A city ends when there are no longer people to define it.”

This striking quote is a birthplace of multiple short stories created as sub-plots, and remapping the interweaving narratives of Glenn’s first novel The Quiet Ones. As I asked where this work started, he zeroed in to Kilometer Zero, his short story of a Filipino and an American Anthropologist who wanted to write about Manila, coming from a foreigner’s point of view.

Glenn claims he’s Manilenyo, born and grew up in Sta. Mesa, with Ilocano parents. For us who have read the book through and through, this explains the alluring noise of Manila, and its stark contrast with the disturbing peace of Pagudpud. He does his research not as intently as I thought it would be, for he is not like the writers I imagined (those who do the mind-map and tried to bleed out the ideas from shelled-out themes).

For me, he broke the current tropes of poverty porn by creating a white noise in the daily lives of the Pinoys. By the novel more humane, he actually made bus routes, LRT tracks, and the concrete pavements of the Ayala Business District immersive and alluring – creating romance in the mundane. It was an effort, he says. “Let’s demystify writing, it takes hours of labor to put it into a piece of work.” Elaborating the unlearning, he says he desynthesized the angsty tones in his young working student years (he used to be a work in People Support from 2005-2007), making the familiar places more sentimental. He sees his former workplace with a nostalgic tone – the Lung Center, Paydays and American Holidays and Pecha de peligo – that he even thought that this phase will delay his graduation to finally get a move on with life.

The discussion were a bit disjointed; like the novel itself, series of questions were not made in linear form, but instead, it is a traverse between multiple moments, interjecting personal questions in between. Let’s say, more of probing the author himself. Instead of continuously reflecting into the quiet, it oftentimes got escalated with the [Questions of the Tita], triggering bluntness and candor in snippets of serious questions.

And the noises came in.

In a series of candid questions – reflecting on the romantic moments between Carolina and Reynaldo, Philip and Eric, Alvin and Scott – these subplots with partnered characters is a work of fiction. I see it as a staple statement to veer away more personal questions, but to be able to write a female perspective is his way of channeling Lorrie Moore. And actually, seeing himself as Carolina. He did say about an old couple he saw in Pagudpud. Perhaps, it also gave an inspiration to create a female character and a summer romance with build-up tensions at the end of the chapter.

In discussing the Palanca stint, he actually did not expect it to win. He just wrote the novel to get the project done, made an impulse decision (more of #YOLO) to submit it for Palanca Awards, and actually won without any backups, or so-called politicality of it all. He has this look that he doesn’t want his work to be tagged in the words of “Palanca Winner”; more of he was happy if he hears about a reader raving reviews without the knowledge about the award-giving body.

Calisthenic writing, is there such a thing in The Quiet Ones?

He says the first chapter itself is a writing exercise. He wanted to challenge himself if he can write an action-filled part, focusing more on the plot rather than the character’s stream of consciousness. But alas, it cannot maintain it’s consistency. I guess, it is more of his buying in to the readers to get engaged before immersing. In addition, having WE as the first-person-plural point of view is an observation from the creative writers and readers alike – and he says it is not him being part of an equation (i.e. Alvin + Glenn Diaz), but rather, it is a collective term for The Workforce.

Marie meanwhile, as an omnipresent character throughout the novel was not a writing exercise, not even an intention to create tangent points with the characters across the novel. She is the missing link, but Glenn emphasized that it was our insight in seeing that way. She used to have her own chapter, but in the end removed. For me, she represented the essence of a person sans the spotlight; like an old friend who was always there, waiting.

After closing the book discussion, I personally have a renewed love-hate relationship with Manila. Perhaps if I look at Kilometer Zero again, I might see a ghost of a Scott saying “Mahal na mahal mo itong lungsod, ano…?”

What happened?

“Ikaw, nakakapagsulat ka pa ba?”

Rats. There’s the conjuction [pa], a tone of freedom, of a luxurious item called time.

As I look again into this old site, the latest post was a summer affair with Siri Hustvedt. After that is years of silence. Let’s say, life happened in between. So fast – you cannot afford to stop and list them all down. Either that, or you are too tired to remember.

After all, the moments that we write are those we want to remember.

And please, let’s demystify writing. It is a creative thing, yes, but it is also a laborious work. It takes more than five minutes of sitting down and construct ideas in your mind, put all the tone of angst or a passive nuances on the events happened through you and you let your hands do the work. Or in my case, letting my fingers type in my laptop.

“Wala na, wala na kasi akong oras eh.”

Perhaps, what added up to the katamaran are distractions. Measured distractions. Measured, in a sense that I can just put my emotions and frustrations in a cohesive thought, filling the screen with 160-230 characters, or a simple photo with a short caption. Or better yet, getting offline and get a move – either thru reading, or immersive travelling.

Siguro, that blast from the past who came around four years later made me see my younger self again. What was I like before? Was I happier? Was I angsty before? Well, I am still angsty but in terms of being soci-politically woke, but maintaining that persona on a personal note is a tough job. I am too Tita to function now. Too tita, too much #Adulting.

But it feels good to write once in a while. It feels good now. This felt good. I do hope I can write more, just about anything. Not just about the books I read, but also the personal lessons on my travels. and I do hope I learn not to take the shorter route of 230 characters, and make it a blog post. Like this.

Thank you, Cyrus. And as I see your site, it’s time to update yours. 😏