In The Name Of Everything That's Good
7 years ago
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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.
(Note: I haven't raised or owned another dog after Raj. Maybe sometime in the future, I will. For now, she still lingers in my memory and it's a very good place for her to be.)
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.
Santorini is perhaps my hometown in a past life. White-washed wall adorned by blue paints made soft by the pale yellow setting sun ---now, that's a sight to behold!
8. Win the Cheese-Rolling Contest, England
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!
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!
7. Camp for a night in Tubbataha, Philippines
For those who haven't heard of Tubbataha, it is a protective sanctuary and a haven for animals, fish and anything else that lives on the sea guarded by armed rangers 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. It's the Philippine's version of Galapagos Island.
My father's friend used to be one of the rangers that guard the place and he said that to see giant sea turtles lay eggs and watch the hatchlings squirm their way back to the sea is an experience of a lifetime. The fact that it's a forbidden sanctuary makes it more enticing.
6. Read a book under a sakura tree, Japan
Other's call it the cherry blossom but I prefer sakura. It sounds nicer. To lay down in a park eating a sandwich and talking to a real geisha is indeed a real treat. I really have to relearn my Japanese.
5. Join a food fight, Spain
Perhaps one of the biggest food fights in the world, the Tomatina Festival would give anyone a chance to waste their food and not feel guilty about it. Celebrated in my second favorite month, August, to get covered and swim on tomato sauce is already spine-tingling. Yay!
4. Harvest Rice, Banaue Rice Terrace, Philippines
Okay, forgive me for this yearning. My grandparents were rice farmers. I was raised on a farm. I love the smell of a new mown-hay (and yes, I like the song, too) especially in the morning with a cup of coffee in one hand and a rice cake in another.
Harvesting rice in one of the best rice terraces in the world - not everyone will ever experience that. It would require dedication and time and perhaps, when I grow old, time is all I will have.
3. Relive the Inca's way, Machu Picchu, Peru
'Nuff said.
2. Teach children while backpacking in Laos, Cambodia, Vietnam and Thailand
The Garden of Buddhas in Laos, the Angkor Wat of Cambodia, the Halong Bay of Vietnam, and the beaches of Thailand - call me crazy but who wouldn't want that?
But aside from seeing the places, poverty is horrible in these places. To teach kids something as simple as ABC would definitely be life-changing.
1. Remarry at 60.
If I'm still alive when I'm sixty, I'd like to remarry that one person who inspires me to become a better human being.
This might be terrible for some of you to read but I came from a family that divorce or separation is never ever talked about and will never ever be allowed. So call me a hopeless romantic or any other names you can think of but I think when all is said and done, our journey will never ever be complete if we never learn to love.
(Sorry about the redundancies of never. Hahaha)
Note: The photos used in this post are not mine. No copyright infringement intended.
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.
Yep, there has been a lot of instances that I have to deal with this. They don't actually say it out loud. They don't give warnings as well. They just do it.
A lot of people in position has the tendency to think that there time is more important that anyone else. Case in point, someone came to shoot an hour late and then while shooting, wanted all the attention to herself halting the scenes because she have to do something else. It was annoying and it was disrespectful. Just because people are trying to be nice and patient doesn't mean it gives anyone the right to trample others.
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.
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.
When we started the shooting, there were a lot of us. As days progress, the number of people who went on to check on what's happening trickled like rain on a hot summer day - that means it's getting close to nada.
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.
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 felt kinda desperate but can anyone blame me if I wanted the new Nikon D5100?
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.
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
I'm working as an editor but my true passion is in writing. Writing gives me a sense of fulfillment. To see my article printed gives me a joy that I can't even fully explain but I know other writers would understand.
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.
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.
