The Dog Who Loved Me
(Photo not mine. No copyright infringement intended.)Raj was a reject. Or so was the description of a friend whose dog just gave birth to five bouncing little puppies. They can't raise all five and he asked me if I wanted to have one. I accepted and two weeks after our conversation, I went to their house to pick MY puppy. Her name wasn't Raj back then. She was merely called "itoy."
When I saw "itoy," I fell in love. At that time, I thought, it was the same feeling a father would feel for his daughter. Her furs were light brown, soft and smooth which I didn't expect. She has long thick lashes and a permanent smile even if she was crying hard (looking for her mom?). She was a mixed race – part Golden Retriever, part Aspin.
When my friend handed her to me, she licked my fingers. Her gentle tongue tickled me, so I raise her high up in the air and looked at her eyes - they were mesmerizing and they were kind - something I wanted in a pet.
We have an instant connection. As I hailed a pedicab to bring her to my small apartment, I thought of her name. I played with dozens of name but none seem to be more fitting than Raj, a shortcut for Raja which meant royalty.
Growing up, I trained her to be intelligent and independent. She was curious. The curiosity often leads to small accidents but her being smart also saved her in a lot of instances. There were days that she come home crying, complaining about something that hurts her belly or the limp on her foot but after a few rubs on the head, she would be quiet and jump around like nothing happened.
I was a freshman when I took her in. When she was about 4 months old, she began to be my alarm clock. Every morning, she would lick my feet and if that wouldn't budge me, she would kiss me in the face. Her breath was always warm and the kiss would turn to licking and as soon as her saliva starts dripping, I would be force to rise. I would scold her and she would just look at me and lie down - smirking.
She was my security guard. She always does a perimeter check in my small cramp up room before going to sleep. When I transferred apartment, although my room is on the second floor with a very steep staircase, she would force her way up the stair contorting every part of her body just to sleep beside me. She would still do the perimeter check and it endeared her to me even more. Most days, we would sleep together until the sunlight gets too hot that we both pant in heat.
Time flew so fast and the once small, light brown puppy my friend called a reject became a large, loyal dog, the best I can ever ask.
In the summer of 2005, I have to leave the city in order to do my on-the-job training. With the help of a teacher, I managed to earn a spot working in a television station. Leaving was hard. Raj will be mostly alone in the apartment. My landlord's mother was too old and the best thing she can do is feed Raj. That was good enough for me. The two-month training period will be quick. I will be back before we both knew it.
Being away was terrible. I can't stop help thinking about the dog I left behind. When summer was finally over, I got back home as quickly as I could. The moment I reached the apartment, I looked for Raj - and I couldn't find her anywhere.
I sat near the window every morning for three months waiting for my dog to comeback. According to my landlord's mother, Raj had been crying and behaving badly when I left that she was forced to tie him down and put her outside the house's gate. She said that she was surprised one morning that the dog was no longer there.
She told me the whole narrative like she didn't care. I looked at her with disgust and I can’t help but feel that she did something worse. She never really liked Raj. For three months, I searched for my dog. I asked around the neighborhood and every day as I go to school, I stop for several minutes, sometimes, walking back and forth on that small unlit street from the house to the main street hoping she will be there.
But she never returned.
Every time I visit Raj in my memory, I feel a certain pang of guilt. We had a very good three years together. Had I been a more responsible owner, she would still be with me, perhaps even today. I wonder about her pain, about her sufferings. I wonder if she ever thought that I abandoned her.
I left that apartment several months after my hope of ever finding Raj sank in. To this day, every time I pass by that neighborhood, I look longingly at the streets hoping that Raj would come to meet me. There are days that I can’t help imagining how great it would be to be greeted by her . She would put her head on my hand and I would pat it ever so gently and we would walk together side by side and once we’re both tired, we will sit on the side of the road and watch the sun as it set.
I don't dream of you.
I don't dream of you.
No, I don't see you in my sleep.
My waking moments are much more precious.
When my eyes are open, I can see you - alive, breathing, laughing.
Dreaming is for people who wanted to escape reality.
I don't want to escape it.
I want to live it.
Because you're exactly where I wanted you to be.
Passion
Okay, let's talk about passion. Here's a short clip we created and by we, I mean FEST (that club we created for amateur filmmakers.)
Our company will be joining this contest participated by 50 (more or less) other companies in the Voice and Move category. That's sing and dance in simpler terms. We were tapped to help out and this is what we came up with.
We used an SLR camera with video capability so yeah, I personally have a lot of things to learn. It's slow process but hopefully soon, I'd learn enough tricks to make a decent short film. Soon being, before the end of the year.
This is Adrian by the way. And hopefully, he'd bring the bacon home this Sunday. :P
10 Things I Want To Do Before I Die
A lot of travel enthusiasts predicted that this year (even the years that follow) people would focus their travel on what they have on their bucket list.
For those living under the rock, a bucket list is a list of goals, dreams and life experiences that one aim to achieve or experience before the light switch off.
I have thousands of things in my bucket list, half of them, almost impossible to accomplish in this lifetime and some of them, I already accomplished.
So aside from winning a buffalo race, to riding a motorbike at an accelerated speed of 90kph, to doing something totally out of character, these are my top ten travel list that I wish to accomplish before I die.
10. Pictorial in Salar de Uyuni, Bolivia
What's heaven like? The child in us has once or twice dreamt about floating amongst the clouds. Salar de Uyuni would give you that chance to not only fly but walk on the clouds. Considered the world's largest mirror, it's the closest thing we can get to experience heaven here on earth (putting the technicalities aside that is).
9. Sunset watching in Santorini, Greece
I first heard of Greece when I was nine. I remembered Zeus, the Acropolis, Parthenon and Hercules. Ever since then, I dreamt about walking with the gods but as I grow older and realize that they were just myths, all that is left is the yearning to see the beauty that inspired a lot of the stories that I still love at present.
I like this because first, it's crazy and second, it looks fun. Running after an eight-pound cheese down a steep hill may in fact cause injuries like broken bones or your spine even. But to get that cheese, and a chance to beat some Brits in the process - it's gonna be awesome!
Yeru: The Aspiring FilmMaker
The last few weeks had been crazy - satisfyingly, sarcastically, unbelievably crazy. In the span of four weeks, I've seen firsthand the pains and joys of creating short films. I also learned a lot of new valuable lessons. I'd like to enumerate them as:
1. The hobby of people in power is to power trip. There's no helping it.
I don't know what it is with power but some immature, egocentric bosses really do need a good spanking from time to time. I'm just glad that my boss is different.
2. The longer the journey, the fewer the company.
Film making is not only about passion - it's also about patience, dedication and it requires a lot of self motivation to see things through.
3. It's always a work in progress.
Creators of films would always think that there's something missing. While the film is being shown, you'd see small details that you'd like to fix and it's not going to end just because the shoot and post prod has ended. There's always going to be something missing and you're going to obsess over it - over and over and over.
But in the end, the joy of seeing the films appreciated is worth all the pains. And the best thing about it, is that the film is there to stay for you to see over and over again - and obsessed on the things you would have done differently.
Of Cancer, Faith and Love (A Dedication to Ble)
I've written 'Goodbye, Sam' months ago for the literary folio of my university. It is a story of one brother who struggled hard to keep a promise to a younger sibling. What makes me write about it today is because that story also touches on the cruelty of cancer and how it separates people, loving people, from each other.
I believe that all love stories have an ending. I've written it before that "happily ever after" can only be found in books. Soul mates or whatever they call two people who love each other too much these days can really never stay together until the end, physically that is though. I believe that somewhere along the way as two people make memories, something, someone or a divine intervention (if you can call it that) would come in the way stopping what would have been a happy ever after.
Yes. It may sound cruel but it's the reality of things.
Take my friends, Payang and Blesie's case.
They met in college. They fell in love. They fought hard - hunger, persecutions by friends and family and thousand more other trials. Those problems they face like bubbles on a dry summer day - meaning, the problems never really last. They end up marrying each other. They have a child, a beautiful girl they nicknamed "Cloney." Their story is a beautiful love story - one that, for me, deserves a happy ending.
But life happens. Something came in the way stopping them. Ble passed away a week or so ago. He fought cancer. Knowing Ble for some time, I know that he fought well. I know he struggled to keep his life, battled with whatever strength he has left, all for a lovely wife who adores him more than anyone and for a child he wanted so badly to see grow.
But he didn't make it. I don't know what it was like to be beside him as his life drains away from him. I know in his bed, as he tried to smile to comfort a worried wife, he has been asking the Big Guy in heaven "Why him?" And I know more than the pain he bears, he was more worried for the family he would leave behind - a young wife who would lose a husband and a daughter who wouldn't have a father. And Ble knows that they didn't deserve that.
What follows is an excerpt of Payang's letter to the malevolent Mr. Cancer. It is heart-wrenching but I like it best when she said: "Now my loving husband is dead...You might have been the reason of his early death but, you failed to change our faith. His Faith in God will lead him to Everlasting Life. In the end, Blesie is still the winner. The grandeur of everlasting life still belongs to him."
People told Payang to hang in there or that there is a reason for everything. I'd like to tell her the same thing but I doubt that things will get better. All I know is that Payang's life will be like hell and the only thing that would keep her moving forward is her daughter.
I'm hoping that sometime in the future, Payang will be happy again -truly happy. But I doubt that too. For me, you can only love one person your whole lifetime. You can settle for the second best but "the one who got away" will always have the best part of you.
It would be a cliché but "hang in there Yang."
Despite my realistic and masochistic self, I still believe that there is in fact a reason for everything.
And I still believe you can be happy.
Maybe not as happy when Ble was around, but happy.
It will help you get by as you wait for the moment where you two will be reunited.
Some will call it stupidity or delusion, but just like you, I’d like to call it FAITH.
Desperate for an SLR Camera
It's a photo contest. There was a criteria for judging but after a series of changes on the qualifications, I think the organizers have decided that they will have their own judges to say who wins. Okay for me!
Yep, I submitted a photo I've taken about three or four years ago. It's an eerie picture of trees. I used a point and shoot camera and while I was grabbing on anything to save my dear life while the motorcycle was running about 80kph, I have my shot. The best for me and the hardest too, personally.
I'm crossing my fingers (just like the over thousand other hopefuls). If I win, I'll finally have a camera that would push me to take better pictures. If not, then I may need to work harder to earn about 50k to finally buy one on my own.
Again, it's desperate. But can you blame me?
"To be Nice" is overrated it has to stop
A friend confided in me yesterday that she's already hating the people around her, - that life is slowly and painfully becoming miserable. She can't believe how those whom she consider her friends can become her enemies in so short a span of time and from the charming people that they were, they abruptly became shallow and mean bitches.
And she asked, "Ain't we supposed to be nice?"
And she asked again, "Aren't we told to be good to one another?"
And I asked her back, "who told you exactly that it is a rule to be nice?"
And I followed up, "when was being nice a requirement for everyone?"
And I ranted that being nice doesn't guarantee that one would gain the best people and make them one's friends. I told her, often, being nice would only get her in more trouble.
We ended our conversation without settling anything. She still believes that despite people's meanness to her, she owes it to herself to remain in character. I believe that niceness should only be applied to people who deserve it.
The truth is, I applaude her martyrdom. Good job, blah blah blah. But I know she would remain miserable all her life because she thinks the happiness of people around her lies in her being nice. Not good!
Nice is overrated.
"People should be cruel in order to be kind." Such was our motto in college and I forgot about it until now. Until I was humiliated and degraded by a person whom I originally thought was nice. Until I was pushed into the corner by a person who says one thing and mean the other. Until I was boxed out by a bitch whom I originally thought was smart but I've proven to be an egomaniac and stupid (nasty combination by the way!).
So "nice" is going out of the window.
If my friend would want to become the forever Good Samaritan that she is, fine. For me, there is a point where everything ends. And I already reached that point.
So bring it on! You've seen nothing of me yet!
Compromise: The Only Way For RH Bill To Work
Making silly banters have become a habit for most people. Just because they have every right to express what they feel, they say things without regard for the consequences. They criticize to the point that they're already stepping on somebody else's rights and degrade someone to the point of being totally garbage.
I really don't care about what other people say or do, but the moment that they cross the boundaries and become plain rude, I can't just stand doing nothing. I pride myself with the fact that I can let other people win when obviously, it's useless to argue. Intelligent people know when to shut up and when to speak their mind. And come on, every once in a while, people should let go and stop being self-righteous b*&^#@! more than they already are.
I think the purpose of debating is not only to educate but for this case, get most of the representatives and the senators to side with the idea that RH Bill is either good or bad for the country. What's wrong with providing facts and figures? Would calling someone names (thank God, it hasn't reach that far yet) make any difference at all? Who would get votes with name calling (or should I say insults) anyway?
If the senators and house representatives are fighting like mad cows in their respective houses, throwing insults all around and challenging each other to fist fights, what message are they sending to the Filipino people? The bill was passed and everyone will be given the chance to speak their minds. Everyone wil have a say, that's for sure. I know however that the reason why there is this on-going debate is because all of us are just being vigilant about what's good for the country.
What's the win-win position here?
Compromise!
If that word is too hard to understand, then even if everyone debates over and over again and people will kill each other, we will be heading nowhere.
(P.S. This is my two-cents, if you don't agree with my thoughts, at least show some decency and respect it.)
The Writer I Want to Become
But to be a writer, one also has to specialize on something. I don't know how or what they call it but if writing is a person, it needs a certain voice - an identity that would stand out amidst other writers' writings.
Osama's death has been making the headlines. Releasing a photo of him dead is so much of an issue that it made the front page.
On a lighter note, Pacquiao will fight Mosley on Sunday (Saturday in the US.) A small story in the Sports Section captures my attention because it's the kind of writing I wanted mine to become.
It's a story lifted by a major newspaper from the Associated Press. It's a four-column yet short article recalling how Pacquiao had become the star that he is today. All other articles in the 20 to 30 spread had been overshadowed by that one article because it captured my heart and it forced its way into me that I can't do anything but like it.
I wanted to do that. Force my way in to people that despite their hate, I can still make them like me (and by ME I mean my writing.) It would be an accomplishment and a true source of joy.
Here's the print screen of the said article.
The Good Days
I missed the days when I think of none
But things that are so fun
I missed the days where all that matters
Is nothing really, there were no worries.
I missed the times when camping out
Means having to worry bout parents pout
I missed the times when being on my own
Is not a good thing cause Im too young.
I missed the moments when I was free
From the burden of adulthood, was I lucky?
I missed the moments when all I care about
Is where to go next with friends abound.
But today is the day of responsibility
And the time is time to be a somebody.
This is the moment were life is messy
Because being an adult is taking liability.
I was in a hurry to grow yesterday
And when I got here finally
I wanted to go back to a time
When life was fun, and what matters is none really.
Validation of a Job Well Done
No matter how great a person is, without validation, he still is nothing.
I’m ecstatic with the thought that I earned it, that I am “it.”
I know a lot of you won’t have any idea what I’m talking about. But in my line of work, an email from my boss (a portion is posted below) is as important as hearing the words “Good Job!”
The wait is finally over and new challenges are yet to come but I welcome them, like they are rain from the sky after a dreadful drought.
Long way ahead but I’d make it. I will make it. Deym, I’m proficient and that means something.
With my book in the works (I’m in Chapter 6 now, hurray!) and yes it’s taking a while but before the end of this year, I already have something to present.
Hopefully my friend who knew several publishers would be able to do something to get it published.
Cheers to life. And this one's to the future!
Of Hair and My Apparent Lack of It
Let's talk about hair.
It's been a long time coming and this is the perfect time to talk about it. While everyone else is celebrating Holy Thursday and skipping meat as part of their penitence, from my end, I think I had been doing mine ever since I graduated college.
During the Lenten Season, they say that you have to give up something that you really love. It just so happen that for most people, they love their food. I'm not Catholic so the practice shouldn't bother me. But for the sake of this article, let me tell you why losing my hair becomes my penitence and why the Lenten Season never stopped for me.
This is the usual conversation.
Office Colleague 1: Hey, where are you going?
Me: Out. Just buying lunch.
Office Colleague 2: Let us go with you.
Outside.
OC1: It's so hot. Why is it so freaking hot?
OC2: That's actually not my problem. My problem is that something hurts my eye.
OC1: Oh. I see what you mean.
OC2: (Looking at me.)Would you mind covering your head. The sun's reflection is killing me.
Boohoooo!!!! Funny!!!
I'm not sure if you get what they mean but everytime we are out and the sun is blistering hot, they blame my head for creating so much eye sore. It use to annoy me a lot and God forgive me, I pray for the day that everyone else start losing their manes so that they would know how ashamed they make me feel.
I have genes to blame for this tragedy. Well, I use to think of it as a tragedy but not anymore. Looking at my pictures in college with my voluminous hair and taking picture with me on a wig (well-sort-of), I look like an idiot. It's actually better that I totally get rid of my hair.
The usual banter about my being bald (more of thin hair) is not causing me distress anymore. Deep down inside, everytime they call me names for my apparent lack of hair, I shout "Is that the best you got?"
And deep down, I'm also praying that God would do justice and I pray hard that one day, those who bully me will get what they deserve. I don't want them going bald, that would be too funny. I just wish their teeth get all knocked off. How's that for a tragedy?
(Or maybe I'll knocked their teeth for them, just for the fun of it. Hahaha)
The Philippine Writer's Block
The best thing about being an editor is discovering talents. Of course, there is a bigger chance of wasting your time on people who are just trying hard and yet call themselves writer but the moment that you find them, those diamonds in the rough, and help them become better writers - is too much of an honor.
When I was in college, one thing that I always find unfair even at present is how people seem to be fixated with schools. A lot of people think that the school makes and defines the students but I'd like to contradict it. Time and time again, stories after stories, I can say that students make the school. The students bring prestige and honor not the other way around. If students pass the bar exam, it's not because the school took the exam for them but rather, it's because the students studied hard to pass it.
Good writers in the Philippines are barely recognized. For one, to be a recognized writer, you have to have money and should come from a well-known school. Everytime that I come across with a good writer, I come not to pity the writer for not having the chance to showcase his/her talent but I pity the world for not meeting one of the gifted writers it badly need.
The world especially the Philippines is currently experiencing a widespread writer's block. Watching Philippine TV show is like being transported back to the 60s or 70s. I don't mean that as a compliment. You are transported back to the past because it's where the good stories are. TV writers cannot come up with anything new and they end up with recycled materials (like Machete, Mula sa Puso, Mara Clara etc) and borrowing from foreign media (take Lobo and Imortal).
Somewhere out there, I believe are more talented writers waiting to be given a chance to showcase their talents. They wouldn't come from well-known schools and those who will find them, will be lucky enough and for sure, will have fresh materials to present to the public. And God knows how much the Philippine public needs new stories and fresh materials.
On a related note, two of my recent discoveries are budding writers from my old student publication. One calls himself Ryan Adik Na Lambay and the other is Rolyn.
Ryan's writing is sarcastic but it's true and often very humorous. He paints a clear picture of what he wanted to write about. He may need a little tweaking on the logic of his story but once he overcomes it, I believe that he would follow the footsteps of Filipino writers Bob Ong and Eros Atalia. And maybe he'd be a little better.
His short story, Anak ng Teteng!, had me laughing. It was a simple story but the picture was so vivid I can imagine the character like I was with him. Here's an excerpt:
Rolyn on the other has the best ability to create fluent and fluid conversation among her characters as evident on her short story, The Stranger. She also have a beautiful way of presenting her story. Here's an excerpt:
In time, I believe both Ryan and Rolyn will be very good writers. I hope they will be given a chance to develop their talents. But what I hope the most is that they would not forget the reason why they write.
Love According To Grandma
They have 9 children. My mom, Juliet, became the eldest when the very first child, Judith, died when she was in her teens. She was married to one man, the same man she married some 50 or so years ago. Her husband celebrated his 74th birthday just this April and she herself will celebrate her 74th soon. She's not the hopeless romantic type.
She's part Spanish and one of the prettiest in her youth. She has many suitors but my lolo said he never said any word. He bragged that he just looked at her and they knew.
Their growing up years were not the best of years. They have seen the atrocities of war and they knew suffering more than anyone having to raise 9 children with only their land as a source of income. They have seen the worst and the best of each other and despite thousands of disappointments and frustrations, they are still together.
Through her experiences, I believe my lola has every right to define what love is. And for my benefit and some other young people who have trouble understanding what it means, this is how she put it:
People go through a lot of things for love. but the truth about love is that it's all about the rib. People will leave their wives or husbands, defy beliefs and religion, challenge faith and authority just to be with the person meant for them. Some are lucky enough to find them while the unfortunate spent their whole lifetime searching.
When you find your rib, words get out of the window, courtship isn't needed, competition doesnt matter. If it's the rib, you jump right in not minding the consequences because your heart knows where it belongs.
If it's the rib, you would know... by the look in the eyes, by the caresses, by the smiles. And if it's the rib, if one has to go, the other would soon follow. It's a magical feeling others wouldn't know. I found mine and i pray so would you.
4 Must See Burial Sites in the Philippines
Death is a common theme among civilizations. The great civilizations like that of the Mayans and Egyptians had acknowledge death as a part of life - a temporary stop where everyone had to pass by in order to move forward to a future more fulfilling if not cursed.
Having said that, the Philippines is perhaps one of the world's most exotic places not only in location but customs, traditions and beliefs. It has some of the most unique and peculiar burial places and practices and the most colorful of history as well.
Here are four must visit cemeteries in the Philippines.
1. The Hanging Coffins of Sagada
Sagada, Mountain Province
There is no proper name given to caves and cliffs where these coffins are hung. But technically, I think it is fair to say that these collection of hanging coffins located at numerous spots all over Sagada can be considered as cemeteries.
What is magnificent about this burial practice is the way the coffins and its contents are preserved. At present, most people who were buried (or hung) had been preserved so well that if one is to open the coffins, the mummies inside are still intact.
Noteworthy: The townsfolk have a paganistic belief that those who died naturally and those who died from sickness or childbirth should be separated so as not to spread diseases or curses.
2. The Sunken Cemetery
Camiguin Island
Of course the Sunken Cemetery didn't start out as that. It was a regular cemetery so many years ago but due to several eruptions of Mt. Vulcan Daan, the cemetery was forcefully driven underwater.
Today, during high tide, only the big cross marker can be seen since the rest of the cemetery is totally submerged. There are days however, when the tide is really low, that one can see the eerie layout of this burial ground.
Photo Source: http://www.flickr.com/photos/49064485@N00/487883845
3. Familia Luzuriaga Cemetery
Bacolod City, Negros Oriental
There are no special or weird practices involved with this cemetery. What makes this cemetery remarkable is its location.
As the Guiness Book of World Record had put it, this cemetery is "the only cemetery in the world at the intersection of two highways."And that pretty much summarizes everything.
This cemetery belongs exclusively to Ruiz de Luzuriaga family, a prominent clan in Negros Occidental, whose great great grandfather, Don Eusebio Ruiz de Luzuriaga, settled in Bacolod City in 1840 after self-exiling himself from Spain.
Photo Source: http://www.flickr.com/photos/sunshinebunny/4041249617/
4. Death March Marker
Corrigidor, Bataan
On April 9, 1942, Bataan fell. About 75,000 American and Filipino soldiers surrendered to the Japanese and these POW (prisoners of war) were forced to walk (more than 100-km) from Mariveles (located at the southern tip of Bataan Peninsula) to Camp O'Donnell.
Out of 75,000, only about 54,000 reached the destination due to inhumane physical abuse and murder.
The atrocities of the Japanese and this event was later called the Bataan Death March. At present, the path that the soldiers took is marked by white markers. The estimated number of fallen soldiers - 11,000 scattered all over the path they took.
Photo source: http://visitpinas.com/the-unknown-clark-cemetery-and-death-march-marker/
Of Finding Closure
Going home had enlightened me about a lot of things primary of which is that I have to let go - let go of people, of ideals, of fantasies and of the past.
To summarize, going home is about closure.
I'd been judged. I'd been asked to do things I don't like and pressured to make the decisions I don't agree with.
But those days are over.
I have decided to move ahead to the future. I've decided to never look back.
Last night, I have a long conversation with my brother. We talked about a lot of things and finally, I was able to say things I'd been keeping for so long. Finally, there was someone to share with the sorrows about our little imperfect family.
The truth is, I don't know if telling my brother the things I told him was a good thing but somehow, at the end of the day, it felt right. So it was a closure for a nasty internal conflict for me. I've decided to let it go.
And then I closed that chapter - the one that I'd keep to myself, the fantasy that will never come true because as already said -it's a fantasy. It was a childhood dream which failure of coming true hurts a lot. I have to accept defeat and face it like an adult. And I am an adult now. No more make believes.
Lastly, I will no longer be pressured to do things I don't like. It's a thing of the past. I will make my decision at my own time, at my own pace. If people hate me for it, so be it.
An Attempt At Haiku: A Dedication to Sidlakan
I was in 3rd grade when I was taught how to write a haiku. It's been a while since I made one and I've forgotten the rules in writing one. This is me trying. If I fail terribly, I have but my ignorance to blame. :)
Playful Filipino names hard to get used to
My real first name was taken from the bible in the book of Enoch (which is my father's name by the way). The original format was Jerahmeel, meaning "loving God" but my mom felt that there is a need to align it with Filipino machismo so he changed the "a" to "o."
Our last name is a transliteration (I think it's what it is called) of the Spanish word "y buen" which if im not mistaken meant "the good" or something.
So my name can mean "the good loving God" and yes, I feel that it is unfitting my character.
Anyway, a friend posted this on her FB and I feel the need to share it just to give people the idea how talented Filipinos sometimes when it comes to name. This article, I think, gives enough background about Filipinos propensity at humor.
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Source: http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/programmes/from_our_own_correspondent/9435751.stm
By Kate McGeown
BBC News, Manila
Bizarre and often unflattering names are as quintessentially Filipino as the country's Catholic faith, friendly smiles, former US military jeeps known as jeepneys, beautiful beaches and love of karaoke.
On my first day in Manila, I walked down to the local cafe and was served by a smiling young girl who wore a name badge entitled BumBum.
I did a double-take, then smiled back, deciding it was probably a joke.
But if so, it is a joke that practically the whole country seems to be in on.
Since then I've met a Bambi, three Bogies, several Girlies, a Peanut, a Barbie and a middle-aged man called Babe.
These names are found in all sectors of society.
Sometimes they are nicknames, sometimes genuine first names - but they are always what people are referred to on a day-to-day basis.
Even the president is not spared. His real name is Benigno Aquino, but almost everyone here calls him Noynoy.
Two of his sisters are called Pinky and Ballsy. No-one seems to see the need to ask why.
Neither does anyone question the integrity of Joker Arroyo, one of the country's most respected senators.
That is his real first name. Apparently he got it because of his father's fondness for playing cards.
Joker's brother is called Jack.
And it seems perfectly natural to Filipinos that the boxer Manny Paquiao should express his love for the British royal family by naming his daughter Queen Elizabeth.
Lost in translation?
So why do Filipinos have such odd, even risque, names?
This is not a translation issue, as most people speak English well, or well enough to know that BumBum, for example, is not exactly on the rest of the Anglophile world's list of popular baby names.
I rather tentatively brought the subject up at a dinner party full of lawyers, academics and business people.
Many of them were surprised - they had simply never thought of these names as having any kind of negative connotation.
But once we started discussing it, they did agree that, to outsiders at least, it all might sound a bit strange. Soon a heated debate began.
Perhaps it was because of the propensity of Filipinos to have large, tight-knit families, some of them said.
A man called Babe or Honey Boy, for instance, is probably the youngest member of that generation in the family.
It suited him when he was two years old - now he is a slightly overweight businessman in his 50s, why change it?
But nicknames are not always given when people are young.
The former president Joseph Estrada is more commonly known as Erap - a name he acquired in his 20s.
When spelt backwards, Erap becomes Pare, which means mate or buddy in the national language Tagalog.
Other guests thought that nicknames came about because of a need for individuality.
People here often have the same Christian name as their parents.
Former Congressman Ace Barbers, who, like Joker Arroyo, obviously had a card-player in the family, has the Christian name Robert, but so do his father and all his brothers.
He clearly has not found it a problem as he named his four sons Robert too. Nicknames must be essential in their house.
'Melting pot'
The conversation soon turned to the fact that the Philippines is a melting pot of different cultures, and perhaps that is what led to these strange names.
The president himself is a good example. His full Christian name is Benigno Simeon Cojuangco, names which are Spanish, Hebrew and Chinese respectively. His nickname Noynoy is the only part that is truly Filipino.
A well-used adage here is that the Philippines spent 400 years in a convent then 50 years in Hollywood, referring to Spanish then American colonial rule.
The Spanish introduced the concept of surnames - in fact they issued a decree in 1849 that everyone had to have a surname.
So even today, most surnames are Spanish.
But the main thing Spain gave to the Philippines was Catholicism, and with it, tens of thousands of newly-christened Marias and Joses.
With the Americans came names like Butch, Buffy and Junior - and the propensity to shorten everything if at all possible.
Perhaps it is the combination of these two influences which has led to names like Jejomar - short for Jesus Joseph Mary.
The current vice president is called Jejomar Binay.
Their surnames are often a form of Anglicised Chinese, but sometimes the Philippine penchant for fun shines through.
I have heard of a Van Go, a John F Kenneth Dee and an Ivan Ho.
But there are some names that just defy explanation.
Why would you call your children after the days of the week or your favourite desserts? To many Filipinos, a better question to ask is: "Why wouldn't you?"
I have been living here for a while now, and I have got used to all these names.
When I'm introduced to a Dinky or a Dunce, or read about people called Bing and Bong, it seems almost normal.
In fact, if anything, I rather like the fact that Filipinos are self-assured enough to use these names, no matter how odd they sound or how senior the person's public role.
But my assimilation is not quite complete.
While I think it is great that BumBum can wear her name badge with pride, I'm not quite ready to adopt a Philippine nickname myself just yet.
A good deed a day
There is a saying that goes "no good deed goes unpunished."
Honestly I don't know what it meant and I don't even want to understand what it meant. I lost it at "no."
Most days when Jeri (my colleague at work who's probably one of the best people I've meet - attitude wise) take Edsa, I hitched along and there was this sort of ritual he keeps on doing.
Exiting the 5th floor of the parking area can be very annoying at times especially by 6pm when people are in a hurry. Other drivers would try to take over and even if he was next in the line, he'd keep his cool, let the car pass and then tell himself, "There's my good deed for the day."
At first I found it naive of him but in time, I've come to realize that it makes more sense and it doesn't hurt anyone. It became my inspiration.
Yeah, what if I too, would make sure that I do something good each day? It might not be much but it is something.
It can be as simple as giving my seat to an elderly at the bus, or maybe hold the door for someone while exiting the building or can be as out-of-the-way as helping out in a donation drive for people hurt and victimized by calamity somewhere.
The goal is doing a good deed just for the plain silly reason of doing it. It's not going to make me rich but it sure wouldn't make me miserable as well.
So why not do it for the sake of fun and pure spirit of helping.
I want to make a habit of it. And for habits to form, it takes time. So I’ll take it slow. I’ll do it one day at a time until it becomes natural.
A good deed a day wouldn’t make me a saint but deym, I don’t want to be a saint. But by doing it, hopefully would keep the world in balance. While some people flourish in inflicting pains to others, tormenting the souls of the weak and less able, I do my deed.
Out of the billions of people, there are two of us who would do it every day – one single deed a day. It wouldn’t be enough to keep the karma balanced but it sure will be a difference.
So each day, I'd go my way doing one good deed. The person I'm giving it to may not realize that they just received a favor but let it be that way. Who knows, they will pass the good deed along unconsciously.
And maybe, just maybe… it would inspire others to do the same.
Just like this post for: “Here’s my good deed for the day.”
Nothing gets better after a betrayal
Everyday I convince myself that I have the ability to understand people more than they know. I am still convinced about the said ability but right now, I feel stupid.
I feel stupid because it took me 24 hours to understand what the clues mean.
"It is something you can relate with."
"My dad did a stupid, stupid thing."
How can I not see the point of the two statements? Why did it take me this long to make sense of such clues.
I can relate to it because it happened to us, to our family. And the stupid thing that dads can do? What else can it be if not...
Yes, I think you got what I'm trying to say.
But I cannot say the words because it would feel real. It would make it a real problem.
The worst thing parents can do to their children is betray their trust. The worst thing that parents can do to betray their children's trust is to destroy their trust to each other. These things are interconnected and when this stupidity happens, the children often end up the one in the worst of positions.
Betrayal.
A word I'm so familiar with but still couldn't comprehend.
A word that I abhor and the thing my father did which I may never learn to forgive.
Nothing gets better in time. Once it's done, it is done.
I'm not judging because I may in the future betray the trust of people I love.
But before that happens, I pray that I'll be dead.
And to those that made the crime that I can't mention here yet...
I wish you long life so that you can see the effects of what you've done... YOU MISERABLE PATHETIC JUDASes!
The end of the world happens every day
The Mayans had predicted that the world is going to end by December 2012. How it would happen, no one really knows, not even the Mayans. But the thought of end-of-world as we know it seem to fascinate a lot of people and some take it to the extreme it's becoming annoying.
So what if the world is to end by then? Would our freaking out and paranoia do anything?
I guess not.
To other people, the world had long ended long before the predicted time has even come. Heartaches had mean the end of the world to a few people I know. Not graduating college on time meant the end of the world to my former classmates. Getting pregnant and getting someone pregnant had been the end of the world to some of my closest friends.
So you see - the end of the world happens every day. It shouldn't cause any commotion at all. If we die, we die. There is no fighting it. We're all heading that way anyway.
I'm not saying this because I'm a pessimist. But I have long come to accept that there is no escaping death. I know the religious aspect of it and I'm not going to touch that. Reality is we can only fight so much but the end result is the same.
Instead of making a big fuzz about 2012, why not pay closer attention to what is happening at the moment.
If a pervert hurts a child, it should mean the end of the world to us.
If a drug pusher sells drugs to schools, it should mean the end of the world to us.
If parents hurt their children, or children hurt their parents, it should mean the end of the world to us.
If police are not doing their job or the government is failing its people, it should mean the end of the world to us.
If we fail to say good morning every day, it should mean the end of the world to us.
When someone fails to do a good dead, it should mean the end of the world to us.
Let's not wait for a catastrophe or calamity to strike long before we tell ourselves that the world is ending. The world had been heading to harm’s way a long time ago. It has been on the road of destruction more than we can remember. Let's all stop acting like children and start making changes.
And something as small as candy wrappers on the street should mean the end of the world to us.
Just because it's too small of a commotion doesn't mean it shouldn’t be noticed.
Literary Folio on the Works
I'd been saying this but, having graduated about 6 years and having enjoyed college, I really am missing writing so much.
Handurawan is published annually by my university. If it isn't for the student publication, the literary folio wouldn't be possible. I don't know what this year's editorial board have decided as theme but I'm sure it's going to be great.
I'll be dropping by NORSU when I get home. Hopefully they can give me better idea on how the folio would look like.
Some of the lines I liked about the poems I edited so far are:
Go Catch Some Movie: World Invasion: BoLA in Theaters
Starring Aaron Eckhart, Michelle Rodriguez (the only two I recognized) and Ne-yo (can't really figure out which one he was until I made some google search), ***SPOILER ALERT***, the film was about aliens invading Earth because of their need for water - or so one of the theories went.
Three minutes before the film, Nyle received a text message telling her not to forget going to church because the world is going to end soon.
It was scary which made the movie more appealing. Earth is to be colonized by creatures closely resembling robots and they have these guns which bullets burn you dead. People were doing their regular stuff and out of no where, they're being killed.
And having a wild imagination, I pictured myself in such situation. I felt angry about the thought of being colonized. How dare they come and destroy things they don't have right getting. And I imagine myself being one of the marines. Crazy stuff, I know. But how far I'd go to protect the people I love is beyond question.
Just so you would have better idea what I'm talking about, go catch the movie. Tell me what you think and let's debate about it.
'Twould be fun. :)
Redemption
People who are guilty often gives meaning to everything that is happenning around them. Thus, this poem.
A few days and counting...
A week and two days from now, I'm heading home.
Home is but just a dot in the map.
If not for the volcano where our city got its name from, I, myself would be having a hard time finding it in the map.
What I like about my small city in the mountain are the falls, and the rivers and the trees (assuming there still are.) I wanted to brag about the wonderful places there but I rather have the pictures do the talking so watch out for them.
Here's a to-do list for me:
1. Stop at every town from Dumaguete all the way to Canlaon in one day.
2. Visit at least 5 beaches. (When I get back, I'll be tanner than the ridiculous Jersey Shores gang.)
3. Deliver a mind-blowing lecture on my university's student publication. (Yep, they invited me again.)
4. Ask grandma and grandpa to cook me some baye-baye, and my favorite kalamay-hati. (I'll post pics to give you an idea what these are.)
5. Bond with Chy and Ice and hopefully will have a mind blowing vacation.
This vacation will be about spending time with my grandparents. Some of my experiences will be made public while most of them, the intimate one, I rather keep to myself.
Looking forward. :)
Birthday Wish
The 21st is a few more days away. I'm going to grow old another year. It's not as exciting as it used to be. I'm not even excited about gifts anymore. I just wanted people to be there.
The last time that I'd been excited about gifts was December about 10 to 15 years ago. We used to have this new year family gathering and my titas from Bacolod would all come home. We all spend the new year in lola's house. Once 12 midnight strikes, we'd open the gifts and my brothers and cousins and I would have new clothes and notebooks or shoes depending on what our parents requested.
The prospect of having new things for new year, speculating what it could be, was fun even to our parents and lola and lolo. Then life happened. I've grown my own wings, tails and even horns. The gifts became all about the price and the newness, not the thought and the preparation. Whenever I'm given something, I started to complain. "It's not even new." "Duh, it's just a remnant of what they wore."
And then the gift giving stopped. And I started to miss it.
I wanted gifts to be given as a surprise. I often don't want it on my birthday because presently most people see gift giving as an obligation rather than as a source of joy to the person who's receiving it. And I don't want anyone to feel obligated. I want people to be happy for me because another year has passed and I'm still alive. I wanted people to pray for me so that I can be safe for another year and hopefully still celebrate another birthday.
Because when I die, it's not the gifts that would matter anymore.
For my birthday, I wish for your happiness. May it be in family, in job, in life - I hope you find it.
I'd like to believe that I found my happiness. And having said that, I hope God wouldn't think of me as selfish to request for the said happiness for life. Even if life - is short.
Empty graves shutting down. Tearing (dot)wall saying HI!
My old blog was updated like ages ago. I don't want to delete it because I still feel a connection to it but I think the time has come for me to move on.
"Empty graves on nobody’s valley" was created to give way to the angst of a younger me. I've grown old and I'm no longer the innocent pacifist that I used to be. I learn a lot of things in life and they were terrible. I no longer believe in good versus evil. I believe in good coexisting with evil. I believe that one person is capable of doing both given the opportunity. I believe that as evil triumph, good is just standing by watching as people suffer maybe drinking mojito and too drunk to care and when his drunkenness has passed, he'd try to win again only that it's too late.
I don't know exactly what I meant by what I wrote - only that it felt right. That good is becoming more and more lax with his role and that evil is becoming more and more persistent is truer than I can even swear. I can feel it in me. It's exciting but more than that, I fear it.
As I say goodbye to Empty graves, I will welcome tearing (dot) wall. He would become my new friend. He will contain every complaint, every mischief, every fucking failure I do. Tearing (dot) wall would put me to shame. He would mock me and laugh at my weaknesses. He would tear me into pieces just like he would tear that wall (whatever that is).
But I believe that by doing this, I'd come out triumphant. In what way, I've got to figure that out. But in every mockery and insult, I'd become strong - thick faced so that when that final test would come, my facing with evil - the goodness left in me would be enough to crush him down.
We had long journey “empty graves”. I would miss you. I would miss your sunny facade and your goody-vibe. But I will not forget you. I may wake you up again someday. Only if I get back that innocence, that belief in good that I already lost.
Tearing (dot) wall, you would become a challenge for me. But you'd help me figure things out, whether you like it or not. We'll traverse life together from now on and don't ever give up on me.
Here's to a new beginning. And to the end of a good friend.
An Open Letter to A Japanese
Hi,
When I was in elementary, one of my favorite stories is the story of two boys whose respective villages were threatened by big waves. One of the boys lives in the side of the mountain while the other lives in the fishing village below. When the big waves came killing the parents of the fishing village boy, he was taken by the family who lived in the mountain and from the destruction and lose, the fishing village boy learned that life can still be beautiful after pain, lose and suffering.
What triggered the recall is the fact that thesetting of the story is also in 
Japan. I forgot the title of the story but the courage and the friendship forged amidst the tragedy had stayed with me up to now.
The catastrophe that is Japan is like a nightmare. I feel like the story I've read of so many years ago had actually happened now that I'm already an adult. And just as the story made me sad before, it made me sadder today.
In my mind, somewhere in Japan right now is an orphan, sad and desperate because he didn't only lost his house, he lost his family - he lost his everything.
The earthquake which was followed by a tsunami killing number of people was something that I know and heard about in the news but didn't really care at first.
Until I saw the pictures and the videos.
The internet has been flooded with these. There were a lot of stories floating around and the more that I read the stories, the more that I look at the videos and the pictures, the more I get depress and helpless.
What I'm really worried about is the fact that the tragedy is not over yet. That looming in a distance is another possible tragedy - the explosion of nuclear power plants that may take more lives.
And I'm wondering. Can the Japanese people take more? Can they survive yet another tragedy?
Maybe the answer is on that story of so long ago.
I remembered the boy learning to be brave, to face life's adversities with courage. I can remember that there was a family who helped the orphan and they took him in.
I believe that Japan would survive this tragedy because there are people all over the world willing to see them rise again. Japan has fallen before and their people had suffered a lot. But over the years, I've come to understand that the Japanese people would always remain strong and they can survive tragedies and start anew.
My prayers and wishes may not be much but you have them.
Whoever you are, whatever you are experiencing right now and if by any chance you happen to understand what I'm saying, you will survive - and you will be happy again. For you are a country of survivors and optimists and yours is a story of hope. Don’t give up.
A friend you might never meet,
Yeru