HNY!

HNY!

 

 

Do you ever feel like a plastic bag
Drifting through the wind, wanting to start again?
Do you ever feel, feel so paper thin
Like a house of cards, one blow from caving in?

Do you ever feel already buried deep?
Six feet under screams but no one seems to hear a thing
Do you know that there's still a chance for you
'Cause there's a spark in you?

You just gotta ignite the light and let it shine
Just own the night like the 4th of July

'Cause baby, you're a firework
Come on, show 'em what you're worth
Make 'em go, oh
As you shoot across the sky

Baby, you're a firework
Come on, let your colors burst
Make 'em go, oh
You're gonna leave 'em falling down

You don't have to feel like a waste of space
You're original, cannot be replaced
If you only knew what the future holds
After a hurricane comes a rainbow

Maybe you're  reason why all the doors are closed
So you could open one that leads you to the perfect road
Like a lightning bolt, your heart will blow
And when it's time, you'll know

You just gotta ignite the light and let it shine
Just own the night like the 4th of July

'Cause baby you're a firework
Come on, show 'em what you're worth
Make 'em go, oh
As you shoot across the sky

Baby, you're a firework
Come on, let your colors burst
Make 'em go, oh
You're gonna leave 'em falling down

Boom, boom, boom
Even brighter than the moon, moon, moon
It's always been inside of you, you, you
And now it's time to let it through

'Cause baby you're a firework
Come on, show 'em what you're worth
Make 'em go, oh
As you shoot across the sky

Baby, you're a firework
Come on, let your colors burst
Make 'em go, oh
You're gonna leave 'em falling down

Boom, boom, boom
Even brighter than the moon, moon, moon
Boom, boom, boom
Even brighter than the moon, moon, moon

Fairy Tales and Dragons

For Nicolai.

It is most unlikely to happen that she would ever be cheesy about the 14th of February. To her it is just one of those days but to most, it is considered special, no - very special. Flowers, gifts, lovely cards and the likes have never been more "so everywhere" during this day. It was one of those days in a year when people started to become extra mushy.

To her limited mind, this only happens in fairy tales, bedtime stories of some sort and then wake up being eaten by some monster dragon.

Fantasy.

She never really understood why most people would take an extra mile ONLY on this day to show that special someone how much the world meant to him/her but today is different. Slowly, she quite had a grasp of it.

Around 3 in the morning when sleep finally got hold of her, something happened. Her mobile phone was ringing like hell. She tried to just ignore the call but it was persistent, soon she heard herself mumbled "hello." An old friend was on the other line, he said he was sorry for calling up at this time and he was asking, no - almost pleading if she could come out and see him. He was outside the girl's house.

She went out to see him.

He just wanted to tell her what his plans are for the 14th. He is proposing to his girlfriend and he wanted his dear friend to be the first to know about this. She was stricken and quite immobilized - she wanted to scream at his face and remind him of the time and that she's supposed to be asleep but she just hugged him and gave her a pretty and sincere smile. She was very happy for him.

She listened intently as he tells her his plans - yes, all those cheesy stuff but it was really something. Her friend is about to sweep someone else's feet. The thought made her heart jump like crazy. When it was time for him to leave, he said something like - "I cannot imagine myself NOT being with her." And that was enough for her to cry again.

Nicolai is a prince and after awhile, he finally found his princess.

Walking back to her house, she caught herself smiling - yeah, a pretty good smile.

She realized that fairy tales happen and dragons can be defeated.

----

Written back in 2008.

Fairy Tales and Dragons

For Nicolai.

It is most unlikely to happen that she would ever be cheesy about the 14th of February. To her it is just one of those days but to most, it is considered special, no - very special. Flowers, gifts, lovely cards and the likes have never been more "so everywhere" during this day. It was one of those days in a year when people started to become extra mushy.

To her limited mind, this only happens in fairy tales, bedtime stories of some sort and then wake up being eaten by some monster dragon.

Fantasy.

She never really understood why most people would take an extra mile ONLY on this day to show that special someone how much the world meant to him/her but today is different. Slowly, she quite had a grasp of it.

Around 3 in the morning when sleep finally got hold of her, something happened. Her mobile phone was ringing like hell. She tried to just ignore the call but it was persistent, soon she heard herself mumbled "hello." An old friend was on the other line, he said he was sorry for calling up at this time and he was asking, no - almost pleading if she could come out and see him. He was outside the girl's house.

She went out to see him.

He just wanted to tell her what his plans are for the 14th. He is proposing to his girlfriend and he wanted his dear friend to be the first to know about this. She was stricken and quite immobilized - she wanted to scream at his face and remind him of the time and that she's supposed to be asleep but she just hugged him and gave her a pretty and sincere smile. She was very happy for him.

She listened intently as he tells her his plans - yes, all those cheesy stuff but it was really something. Her friend is about to sweep someone else's feet. The thought made her heart jump like crazy. When it was time for him to leave, he said something like - "I cannot imagine myself NOT being with her." And that was enough for her to cry again.

Nicolai is a prince and after awhile, he finally found his princess.

Walking back to her house, she caught herself smiling - yeah, a pretty good smile.

She realized that fairy tales happen and dragons can be defeated.

----

Written back in 2008.

Being a girl

While surfing the internet today, I read somewhere about the curse of being Eve and how it can sometimes be a challenge to be a girl. Not to be stupid now, I've decided to write something about that too - Eve's curse and her blessings.

Here goes:

Blessings (Tops)
1. Eve is allowed to cry.
2. She can show her emotions and nobody will think that she's gay.
3. She can talk about anything.
4. She is almost always organized compared to Adam.
5. She takes care of the littlest things (but important) that Adam usually ignores.
6. She can go strut her stuff in a mall the whole day and be fulfilled even if she didn't purchase anything.
7. Her shoes are almost always cheaper than those of men.
8. She can go out in a color coordinated outfit.
9. She does not have to worry so much about hair legs.
10. She strongly tries to avoid violence.
11. She has ability to bring out another life to see the world.

Curse (Tops)
1. She has to suffer and endure the uncomfortable and often painful experience each month of having our periods.
2. Unexplicable mood swings during that period and craving for something sweet, salty and sometimes, sour foods.
3. Birth pains.
4. She is often perceived as the delicate little soul.
5. She is almost always expected to be all dolled up.

And one writer puts it quite bluntly:

“To the woman God said, 'I will greatly increase your pains in childbearing; with pain you will give birth to your children. Your desire will be for your husband and he will rule over you.'"
- Genesis 3:16

"Most women generally find their value in relationships than in their achievements. A woman feels most fulfilled when she’s beside her man, or while caring for her kids, or while nurturing any other human being, for that matter. And this is what’s hard about being an Eve: When she sometimes feels a longing for Adam and she doesn’t know where he is."

And yes, as hard as it is - I still love being a girl.

Being a girl

While surfing the internet today, I read somewhere about the curse of being Eve and how it can sometimes be a challenge to be a girl. Not to be stupid now, I've decided to write something about that too - Eve's curse and her blessings.

Here goes:

Blessings (Tops)
1. Eve is allowed to cry.
2. She can show her emotions and nobody will think that she's gay.
3. She can talk about anything.
4. She is almost always organized compared to Adam.
5. She takes care of the littlest things (but important) that Adam usually ignores.
6. She can go strut her stuff in a mall the whole day and be fulfilled even if she didn't purchase anything.
7. Her shoes are almost always cheaper than those of men.
8. She can go out in a color coordinated outfit.
9. She does not have to worry so much about hair legs.
10. She strongly tries to avoid violence.
11. She has ability to bring out another life to see the world.

Curse (Tops)
1. She has to suffer and endure the uncomfortable and often painful experience each month of having our periods.
2. Unexplicable mood swings during that period and craving for something sweet, salty and sometimes, sour foods.
3. Birth pains.
4. She is often perceived as the delicate little soul.
5. She is almost always expected to be all dolled up.

And one writer puts it quite bluntly:

“To the woman God said, 'I will greatly increase your pains in childbearing; with pain you will give birth to your children. Your desire will be for your husband and he will rule over you.'"
- Genesis 3:16

"Most women generally find their value in relationships than in their achievements. A woman feels most fulfilled when she’s beside her man, or while caring for her kids, or while nurturing any other human being, for that matter. And this is what’s hard about being an Eve: When she sometimes feels a longing for Adam and she doesn’t know where he is."

And yes, as hard as it is - I still love being a girl.

WYMM?

From where I was,
my eyes half shut
he came up to me –
filling me with words.

In that instant,
I couldn’t take them all in.
My mind was half-way through lala-land,
other half is still a little awake.

After delivering all those lines –
he asked me to sit up,
my heart could not contain it,
I knew that something huge is about to happen.

He was on his knees,
and on his left hand
is a little blue box –
and in it is a promise ring.

My heart jumped –
for a moment,
I was speechless.
Tears started to well up my eyes.

His hands were cold
as he held my left my hand.
aiming for my ring finger –
He asked me.

“Will you marry me, Beb?”
I was afloat –
overwhelmed by
this euphoria.

He asked the same question again –
“Will you marry me, Beb?”
And again –
“Will you marry me, Beb?”

In an instant,
I was in the now.
I wrapped my arms around him
and then I give him my yes.

His face lit up
showing off his dimples
staring back at him -
my heart tells me, he is a happy man.

With a new promise ring
on my left ring finger -
I could not help but look forward to
seeing my Hon wait for me when I walk in my ivory dress.

 

----

Written a day after the proposal. :)

WYMM?

From where I was,
my eyes half shut
he came up to me –
filling me with words.

In that instant,
I couldn’t take them all in.
My mind was half-way through lala-land,
other half is still a little awake.

After delivering all those lines –
he asked me to sit up,
my heart could not contain it,
I knew that something huge is about to happen.

He was on his knees,
and on his left hand
is a little blue box –
and in it is a promise ring.

My heart jumped –
for a moment,
I was speechless.
Tears started to well up my eyes.

His hands were cold
as he held my left my hand.
aiming for my ring finger –
He asked me.

“Will you marry me, Beb?”
I was afloat –
overwhelmed by
this euphoria.

He asked the same question again –
“Will you marry me, Beb?”
And again –
“Will you marry me, Beb?”

In an instant,
I was in the now.
I wrapped my arms around him
and then I give him my yes.

His face lit up
showing off his dimples
staring back at him -
my heart tells me, he is a happy man.

With a new promise ring
on my left ring finger -
I could not help but look forward to
seeing my Hon wait for me when I walk in my ivory dress.

 

----

Written a day after the proposal. :)

Woman

A woman does not want to be related to with formula and she certainly does not want to be treated like a project that has answers to it. She does not want to be solved; she wants to be known.
- Stasi Eldridge, Captivating

Woman

A woman does not want to be related to with formula and she certainly does not want to be treated like a project that has answers to it. She does not want to be solved; she wants to be known.
- Stasi Eldridge, Captivating

Sudden Breeze

Its here -
I can feel it; I can see it in my rear.

Too strong to shoo it away;
It comes closer day by day.

It stares at me - throws me its warmth look;
Its mere presence poke me even in my nook.

My soul is not even ready for this - yet;
I am not buying this sudden turn; I fret!

People started to talk about this;
Some get cheery and think that this is bliss.

I look at one corner;
Thinking, if only I can handle this much better.

Yes, its getting so near;
Kids love it so dear.

You can see it in their faces;
They're excited and hop to different places.

Oh dear!
I am telling you, Christmas is here.

Sudden Breeze

Its here -
I can feel it; I can see it in my rear.

Too strong to shoo it away;
It comes closer day by day.

It stares at me - throws me its warmth look;
Its mere presence poke me even in my nook.

My soul is not even ready for this - yet;
I am not buying this sudden turn; I fret!

People started to talk about this;
Some get cheery and think that this is bliss.

I look at one corner;
Thinking, if only I can handle this much better.

Yes, its getting so near;
Kids love it so dear.

You can see it in their faces;
They're excited and hop to different places.

Oh dear!
I am telling you, Christmas is here.

Change is good

Like a comet pulled from orbit

As it passes a sun

Like a stream that meets a boulder

Halfway through the wood

Who can say if I've been changed for the better?

But because I knew you

I have been changed for good

I haven't been writing for quite sometime now. This new hat that I lovingly wear is indeed the culprit - a new last name and a couple of shiny rings on my left. Even my "virtual" life has to be taken aside for a while. This new role can be quite a task, you see.

For somebody who was so used to having someone do most of the chores for her, being THE wife is a challenge. Promise.

But despite all the domesticity, I am still more than glad to be married to that man who stood by me and persevered to win me back over and over. We are definitely a team to beat - Hon and Beb.

So here I am - from akaDelilah to MrsFants.

The man who killed Alexis Tioseco

By Patricia Evangelista.

MANILA, Philippines—The arrested man had the face of a killer. Shifting eyes, tangled hair, cheeks so thin the bones sliced sharp against skin. At the time of his incarceration, he was the father of nine, with one more on the way.

His name is Danilo D. Jomoc Sr., born 47 years ago to a farmer and his wife in Inopacan, Leyte. His education includes several years in Macagoco Elementary School, and not much else. In 1989, he applied for an opening in Agila Gas, a fuel trucking business owned by a man named Leonardo Tioseco.

When Tioseco died in 2007, his son Alexis took over, the only child left in the Philippines after the family immigrated to Canada. Jomoc had known Alexis since he was 15.

At four in the afternoon of Sept. 5, 2009, the man with the face of a killer was arrested for the double murder of Alexis and his girlfriend Nika Bohinc.

* * *

Manang has worked for the Tioseco family for more than five years, first for Alexis’ father, then for Alexis, the boy she calls her almost-son.

They had blindfolded her, she says. There were three men that Criselda let in. She says she never suspected Criselda. The woman was a good cleaner.

She keeps a photo of Alexis on the dresser inside her room. He has his arm around her in the photo. She brings the photo to the living room. This is him, she says. This is me.

Conversations with Mina are peppered with stories of Alexis. How, whenever he went to Canada for the holidays, he would call just to wish her Merry Christmas. How he would order enormous pizzas, and would share slices with her even when she lectured him on cholesterol. How whenever he walked into the house with a friend, any of the troop of filmmakers and writers and artists he gathered around himself, he would call her to the front door and introduce her. “Manang, this is Kiri,” he would say. This is Erwin. This is Quark. This is John. And finally, proudly, “Manang, this is Nika.”

* * *

He mumbles when he speaks. His fingers pluck at a loose thread on rough black pants.

Jomoc has a secret.

In 2007, Alexis had just taken over the management of Agila. Alexis was a film critic, a professor, a writer, far more interested in discussing the need for the establishment of a National Film and Sound Archive and the relative talents of Viva Hot Babes than the rise in fuel rates and trucking toll fees. He worked from the safe distance of the second floor of his Times Street home, signing checks and passing them to his foreman across a sprawling wood table he had brought up for the precise purpose of signing checks. Once, twice a month, he would drive to the Agila offices in Taguig.

On one of those rare days, Jomoc spoke to “Ser Alexis.” He asked if he could advance P10,000 from his trucking salary, to pay for his eldest’s college tuition. His son was an intelligent boy, Jomoc told his boss. His boy had a scholarship, but the fund’s release had been delayed. Jomoc promised to pay, and pay soon.

Alexis refused. Instead, he offered Jomoc the P10,000 from his own pocket. A gift, said Alexis. Take it.

He asked about the other children. Was there anyone else, any other child with potential? Jomoc spoke of another boy, in elementary school.

What does he like? Bikes? Here, buy him a new bike. Tell him it’s because he’s a smart boy, that he should study harder.

Jomoc refused the bicycle money. He said his son already had a bike, and that he, Jomoc, couldn’t accept any more.

Alexis insisted; Jomoc resisted. The trucker won.

Jomoc promised his boss never to tell.

* * *

The police did not have body bags. They used bed sheets from Alexis’ bedroom.

Investigators stepped around his body. There were bloody skid marks on the white tile floor. At three in the morning, hours after the murders, Manang wandered into the kitchen. She told witnesses she wanted to make sure the food wouldn’t go bad. She walked up to the plastic rice bin, picked it up, and tried to open the refrigerator door.

She couldn’t. Alexis’ body was in the way.

The police did not stop her.

They said it was all right. After all, they had already taken pictures.

Manang does not remember the incident.

* * *

In Taguig, policemen went through Jomoc’s locker. They went through his truck. They said they were looking for a laptop. They took Jomoc’s cell phone and a new scythe he had bought to cut through grass.

They had already picked up his wife. Jomoc says it was to make certain he went along.

In Camp Karingal, they asked him where his associates were. They showed him a cartographic sketch. They asked him, does this man look like you?

He said it did, a little. Only the cheeks seemed bigger. And the hair was shorter.

“See,” they said. “See, you even admitted it.”

* * *

The day of Alexis’ funeral, the Quezon City Police Department called the Tioseco sisters.

“They informed us that they had our driver Jomoc in custody and that they had an eyewitness placing him.”

The policemen demanded they press charges.

“They said if we didn’t do it, it would look like we don’t care about our brother.”

The two girls were in tears, but they refused to press charges.

* * *

The policemen asked Jomoc to stand in front of tinted glass. They told him to face left. They told him to face the wall.

They said the witness had identified him. 100 percent.

Jomoc told the police the accusations were impossible. He was in Batangas hauling gas, he said.

“What if we find your fingerprints in the car?”

The Tioseco family tried to stop his arraignment. They said he had an alibi. They had the receipts, the testimonies of the mechanic who fixed his broken truck and the Agila manager who was in contact with him.

They were unsuccessful. Jomoc went to jail.

* * *

Nine months after the murders on Times Street, eight houses down from the home of the President of the Philippines, a resolution:

“Considering the foregoing, the complaint against respondent Danilo Jomoc is dismissed for lack of probable cause to hold him for trial for the crime committed against the victims herein.

* * *

The arrested man had the face of a killer. Shifting eyes, tangled hair, cheeks so thin the bones sliced sharp against skin. At the time of his incarceration, he was the father of nine, with one more on the way.

Now his wife is dead from meningitis. He owes Agila more than P20,000 in loans for her treatment. His last child was born four months premature. And the police still have his cell phone.

He rubs at his pant leg.

His name is Danilo D. Jomoc Sr. Because there were men who thought he had the face of a killer, the real killers walk in the open one year later, wearing the last faces Jomoc’s Ser Alexis saw.

A night with FSJ

It was a night like no other.

What with a downpour that shook my almost shattered being – after an exigent day at work but my great partiality for this man is just compelling. The sheer thought that I would see and hear him talk has already won me over a thousand times that I easily dismissed my aching soul. I just knew that it was a night that I could not let pass.

As my hand clasped with my beau's, we were one of the hundreds (if not close to a thousand or two) of audience who intently listened to what he had to say about the contemporary issues that the Philippines are facing.

While waiting for the talk to commence, I started to feel a little twitchy. I just could not wait to see and hear him talk in the flesh again. The last time I met him was during my high school days, when I used to write for a school paper. That time, he was already a really passionate person/writer/Filipino. My very young heart then was captured.

My waiting soon ended that moment I saw him with his trademark hat on. My heart leaped that I had to silently contain myself – almost commanding it to hush.

National Artist for Literature F Sionil Jose is one man who never failed to interest me since the time I first heard him talk and read his writings more than a decade ago. At 85, he still has the fire that can light up anyone’s thoughts and awareness. As sharp as he still is, I do not know anyone who can beat him with his vast knowledge about the Philippine history and this country's contemporary issues.

While this octogenarian takes being a Filipino very seriously, it amazes me how he has kept his sense of humour still very integral. A strong attestation that he believes that there is still hope for this country.

If one is a habitual reader of FSJ’s column, Hindsight – it is impossible to overlook how he greatly loves this country. His words are sharp and painful – but they are also true. He is tough love in human form to me – when he writes and speaks.

An awe-inspiring sentiment embraced me when he said that he does not write for the best writer there is in the world but instead, he writes for his countrymen. He writes for us, Filipinos. With such conviction – the way he said, “I DON’T WRITE FOR THEM. I WRITE FOR YOU!” sent me to tears. As if he was merely talking to me, how I felt loved!

Of all the leaders or personalities that this country has ever produced, nobody has ever made me feel loved as a Filipino/countryman the way F Sionil Jose did (and still does).  

He concluded the talk with a precious advice that is both simple yet complex to this country’s next generation: MAGPAKA-FILIPINO KAYO!

I told you, it was a night like no other.

September Issue

Love is patient and kind. 

Love is not jealous or boastful or proud or rude. 

It does not demand its own way. 

It is not irritable, and it keeps no record of being wronged.

It does not rejoice about injustice,

but rejoices whenever the truth wins out.

Love never gives up, 

never loses faith, is always hopeful, 

and endures through every circumstance.

1 Corinthians 13: 4-7

Remember

"Don't put at risk what you can't afford to lose."

"Don't talk to me for awhile."

Okay, you got me there - again. 

The slamming of the front door.

Wanting to see the sacred place - 

Oh please,don't act like a baby now!

You may have caused 

this weary heart - 

to beat faster than usual

but you haven't touched my soul. 

This time, I will just let you pass. 

No explanations;

Words are not going to be asked. 

Maybe that is what you want.

Ask and you shall receive. 

Bitter Tears

One disappointment

After another –

When will this end?

Until no words,

Will ever come out

Or when it is too late?

One could only shed

Bitter tears,

With hopes that

Such pain will soon

Leave this being –

Still in one piece. 

When are you 

going to slow down - 

so that you could

see, hear and know me?

Mothers

To the 3 wonderful women

who blessed me with their

kindness, warmth and unconditional love -

I have seen God's warm and loving hands

through you.

All these 26 years

of my existence,

I could not imagine life –

without you as my

strongest pillars.

I know, I stood strong

because I was raised

and so much loved by such

wonderful and strong women.

You are truly such a gift from the Heavens.

To Mom, Iya and Tita Kuh,

thank you for introducing me

to a world where women can be someone.

For showing me that women can be

innately strong sans the macho image.

Thank you

for raising me the way you did,

for guiding me all through out,

for showing me that crying isn’t

always a sign of weakness.

Thank you for being

such wonderful models for me

and my siblings.

I know how to love

because I know what it means to be loved.

I love you!

Happy Mother’s Day! 

Apathetic

Did it ever occur to you that you felt like you just wanted to let things pass? When suddenly you have had enough and the best thing you can do for yourself at the moment is just play apathetic?

I am now wearing that apathetic stance.

Do not get me wrong, I still wear that care hat but there are just certain things that I do not really give a damn anymore. So what if someone close calls this bad news person more than what s/he would actually admit? So what if s/he denies the first time, when asked, that s/he ever made that call? I do not care anymore. I have so many things in my hand and head at the moment and I will not be beaten by people who could not get over the fact that I am my woman – and more.

I know better now.

Choosing my battles does not only make me queen of these circumstances, it also makes life easier to bear however difficult it can be. I have learned to deal with such “tragic blows” without having to open up my soul to anyone available. And I felt triumphant every time.

So, where is this write-up going? Bottom line, I am just too happy to let things pass – I will not be burdened anymore by somebody’s perennial lying, cloaking or whatever “smart” people may want to call it.  That person did what s/he thought was best at the moment – and I am not in control of other people’s behaviour. Too bad lang, I saw those pair of eyes lied to my olive face.

But it is ok, I don’t give a damn anymore.

I super like him

Change-bound

This coming May elections, at 26, I will be a first time voter. No kidding. I used to have this lame excuse of “but I pay my taxes regularly – no miss!” for the sole reason that I do not want to fall in line during registration process. So after years of procrastination, having known better, I am going to vote and do my part.

As a first time voter, I have been religiously “studying” the candidates like a student preparing for a Finals exam – like my scholarship depended on it. I may have a world of my own, hates how bad the traffic is here and would sometimes wish that lightning strikes on corrupt politicians but I love this country so much that I still have so much hope that we will one day rise. That is why, despite so many offers to work abroad – I’d still choose to be here.

I may not be some humongous a personality but I know that in my own little way – I can serve this country. I will start by choosing well.

By this time, I already made a list of who I will vote for but I am suspecting that since the elections is still a month away, this list will still be altered from Congressman to City Councilors. But my President, VP, Senators, City Mayor and V Mayor are already done.

The clamour for such prestige positions is quite tempting what with all the “perks” such positions give but these also require depth, sincerity and a huge, genuine love for this country and its people but having seen and read so many things about this and that candidate – there is really no way for me to know who is really “it”. I have my doubts, at times. This maybe my first time to vote but I was not born yesterday – despite the pretty big bucks that has been deducted from my salary for the past 7 years, I still have no idea where those bucks go. I once posted in my FB account – “where do my taxes REALLY go?”

Through the years, I have learned that a candidate’s intellect, while it matters – is not really big on me. Heck, we have all the intelligent leaders but we only see this country being left behind by our neighbours. Having been named as one of the most corrupt countries in the world, a candidate’s character should also be taken into consideration. Is s/he a perennial liar? How many mistresses does he keep? Is s/he a turncoat person? Did s/he pay his/her taxes faithfully when s/he was still a private citizen? Is s/he an action person or mere blahs? Can s/he be trusted?

The Phippines and its people deserve a leader who will really lead, not solely by position but also by example. She deserves to be loved like anything by her people, as the writer of our National Anthem coined it so well – Ang mamatay ng dahil sa’yo.

While we all desire change, let us start showing love and respect first to our country by doing our part and VOTE WISELY. I trust that from there, we are “change-bound”.

Bagong Sigaw!

I remember

I remember you staring at me
For awhile
When you nonchalantly
Asked me out for lunch.

I remember myself –
Quivered.
And how my heart beats fast,
I know not how to tame such beating.

I remember you calling me,
Late at night,
How you would sing me songs
Over the phone.

I remember myself –
Clinging so hard,
Not to get attached to someone
I did not initially want in my life.

I remember you bringing me,
To a place where I found
That I can take chances again –
When I can love like pain is not familiar to me.

I remember myself smiling
The moment you called me,
Your “Beb”.
When you became my “Hon”.

I remember us –
Fighting a good fight,
Your hands holding mine,
As if telling me, you will not let go.

I remember us –
When we argue like anything,
All those dramatic exchanges and scenes,
Who would’ve thought we could reach this far?

I remember us –
That after a horrible fight,
We managed to pick things up
And remained us – not me and you, but us.

I remember you –
In your cool and pleasant stance,
Telling me, like you always have –
That everything will be alright.

I remember myself –
Though hesitant,
Would still let go of that fear
And just simply trust.

I remember you –
Telling me that
I love you best.
That I am your female version.

I remember myself –
Praying and hoping,
That we always come out strong.
That this heart, will only trust you.

I remember you –
What with your very stubborn love
Made me see myself –
As someone who can be loved no matter how different she can be.

I remember myself –
Finally seeing me in my future.
Not alone but with a companion
She dearly loves – you.



-AKVL, 04/06/10

FSJ's Hindsight

Published below are excerpts from F Sionil Jose's article, To the young writers of Cavite. 

Now we must realize how our leaders today have betrayed us, too; they used the slogans of nationalism, the enduring ties of kinship, of patronage to assume power and colonize us.

Aside from these painful contradictions, our past also informs us how empty our country is of the hoary civilizations of Asia, the great temples, the classical arts and particularly literature, which our part of the world has in abundance.

Must we then, particularly those of us who write, feel inferior to our neighbors with their ancient cultural achievements, their great pre-colonial art?

For those of us who write, the paucity of such artistic effusions should not cripple us into despair and cultural paralysis. On the contrary, our past should be the challenge, the future faced with trepidation, hard work, originality. We are the shapers of culture, the builders of those cathedrals, the proud foundation of a nation. It is a heavy burden we ourselves do not quite realize — least of all our countrymen who are shallow and who do not care. But we the architects and builders must — if only to deserve our legacy from Rizal.

How will this be done?

Whatever history teaches us, whatever historians tell us, we must not forget that in the end, we should not be just Caviteños, or Ilokanos, Maranaos or Mangyans — from the strength of these identities, we must be Filipinos, committed to Cavite, to the Ilokos, to Mindanao — yes, but never forgetting that these loyalties are the tenacious roots of a wider loyalty to this unhappy country where we live, whose effulgent future is ours to shape.

We must never forget that Aguinaldo was captured because he was betrayed by Filipino mercenaries — many of whom demean us to this very day.

We must not forget that Filipinos — our men of history like Andres Bonifacio and Antonio Luna — were not killed by either the Spaniards or the Americans but by Filipinos; that today the same pitiable continuum is in the Moro and communist rebellions — Filipinos killing Filipinos.

These are for the young and particularly the writers — the brains of the country — to ponder, to ingest and more so this season when so many of you will go to the polls and elect new leaders.

It matters very much who you will vote for and your vote should not be for someone who you like because he has done you, your family and your town favors, or because you like what he says, or that he comes to you with an array of promises and gladdens your day with the antics of professional entertainers, movie and TV personalities.

Think of the candidate who has the intelligence, the track record and the sincerity not just to be president but to be truly Filipino. Think hard for you must vote not just with your heart but with your intellect.

Whenever starry-eyed young people ask me for advice because they want to be writers, I tell them: Don’t. I speak not just with a lot of hindsight but with the wisdom of experience and age.

In spite of the hard work, the emotional and spiritual anguish, writing does not pay. As we all know, writers in general all over the world seldom make a comfortable living.

Writing is a vocation, not a profession. As such, it may explain the travail writers must live with. I was discussing this very subject with that brilliant young writer Francesca Kwe a while ago, and she said, “Why, then, must the writer persevere?” Why will you ignore what this decrepit octogenarian tells you?

Yes, why should we continue? We will persevere because we are hopelessly hopeful that our work may fulfill us, and in the process, do a bit of good for others. We will go on because we are egoists but this ego is transcended by our obdurate faith that we may yet help create a just society. Maybe, we are motivated by hate — but that is the other side of love, first for our own selves and beyond us, our fellow men.

We will not prevail, we will probably fail, but we will try and try again, because you — we — are truly Filipino.

The Only Exception

When I was younger 

I saw my daddy cry 

And cursed at the wind

He broke his own heart 

And I watched as he tried to reassemble it

And my momma swore

That she would never let herself forget

And that was the day that I promised

I’d never sing of love if it does not exist

But darling, you are the only exception

You are the only exception

You are the only exception

You are the only exception

Maybe I know, somewhere deep in my soul 

That love never lasts

And we’ve got to find other ways to make it alone

Keep a straight face

I’ve always lived like this

Keeping a comfortable distance

And up until now I had sworn to myself

That I’m content with loneliness

Because none of it was ever worth the risk

But you are the only exception
You are the only exception
You are the only exception
You are the only exception

I’ve got a tight grip on reality 
But I can’t let go of what’s in front of me here
I know you’re leaving in the morning when you wake up
Leave me with some kind of proof it’s not a dream

You are the only exception
You are the only exception
You are the only exception
You are the only exception

You are the only exception
You are the only exception
You are the only exception
You are the only exception

And I’m on my way to believing
Oh, and I'm on my way to believing.