every morning- a miracle! 021422 re-entry

my sunflower days are here again...
why is it that just when i'm beginning
to forget,
there are events that force me
to remember
these days? life is short,
whatever you can do, do it now,
you may perhaps never have the chance to do so again...
your memory is cruel,
it causes aches and pains knowing soon
you'd forget or soon you will be forgotten.
i say, mind should be used against itself...
mind vs body,
mind vs matter,
mind vs events,
mind vs circumstance...
life is short indeed but with mind working to your advantage,
you will leave this world with no regrets---
proceed to other worlds of your liking and happily return via short trips.

in a time capsule [reentry 2008]

there are a lot of people and events that may come in someone's life but only a few will truly touch and etch a memory. high school without debate is one of them. here you will get to meet people from all walks of life, in several manners, mostly awkward since this is the stage when individuals are battling within--->

i am too young to be an adult, too old to be a child (read: adolescence). in this very stage, we tend to create personalities that we perceive to be pleasing to others. no one to blame: men are social beings- the more they behave the way society dictates them to be, the better it is for everybody. when i was thirteen i met this somewhat deviant classmate-dave. he is not like my bestfriend kristoffer (see him in blog entry BF-EVER), really! he was different!...

at such a young age, he seemed to be unmindful of what others may think of him, of his acts, of his words. don't get me wrong, he was seldom unpleasant but always always surprising. his surge of emotions will bring turmoil to a tamed conforming person. his laughter is contagious but so is his anger. his chivalry will make you smile but his apathy will make you cry too. i have tried to look at dave from a different perspective. (at 13, i thought i was a philosopher, a psychologist, or maybe just another lost soul waiting to be found again).

i saw him persevere as much as i saw him get wasted with foolishness. i saw his leadership, and his hardheadedness as well. i saw him falling in and out of love, hear him shouting and whisper at different times. he was a friend to me (or maybe i was a friend to him) ...i had time with him in a capsule. why dave? coz he reminds me that life is too short to be wasted on hiding and pretending to be so-oh-good when you can taste every detail of badness and somehow learn from it.

but years passed i lost track of my subject--- too many thoughts, too many people, too little time i guess. as we entered the university, i see little and little of him. once i saw him laughing with a group of thug-looking students in a kiosk-they all seem to be enjoying their chat, laughing boisterously at times. once i saw him all alone in a path from one building to another, i tried to catch up on him and ask how he was, he halted, stared at me confusingly, and just smiled. i dismissed it as a call to accept that the dave i knew, though nothing has changed physically somehow isn't exactly the same (who doesn't change anyway?).

i saw him a couple of times in a telecoverage of a campus demonstration (that made me smile and reminded me of my foolishness years before). and then nothing, just news that he graduated and somehow tried to conform in his own way. now...(fast forward) dave has popped out of nowhere and is keeping in touch (truly challenges my thoughts, and philosophies in more ways than one). my time in a capsule with him is opened and remembered but a new capsule is to be made (and so is a new blog entry?). he is a family man, a trusted employee, and a fun friend (though he always refutes coz he has different perspective of the word 'friend').

he still is the dave who helped me cope with culture-shock by making me more shocked (ready, set-laugh!), the dave who helped me bring the trash to the pit (and irritatingly threw the trashcan too when i jokingly suggested so---grrr!), the dave who shouts at her girl in the school campus, the dave who loves to tease --- he is the dave who fought with goliath (read: goliath=the need to conform) and won. there are a lot of people and events that may come in someone's life but only a few will truly touch and etch a memory. dave without debate is one of them.

October 2009: das ist die Frage!

THIS WAS THROWNBACK AS I AM AGAIN IN A VERY DARK PLACE...
FELY IS DEAD, SHE'S KEEPING HER SECRETS TO HER GRAVE.

am i really the alfie girl that you were looking for? what do we need to do to prove this? do we need to prove this? are the words of a dying man enough? what do you think? what do you feel? ...in my conversation with you, i can't help but want to hug you for being so strong and for acting detached the way you knew how. the talk was heavy and i was crying a river...

i have to let you know why i couldn't push this matter any longer. i have to make you see how i feel and how would she feel if i keep on bringing the matter that she has easily dismissed...what more can we do? what more can we talk of? will it be so bad for me, for you, for all of us to just let this river take its own course?

sad thing is, there were sadness, pains and regrets accompanying these questions. there are memories touched that brushed the big scars that i once thought was totally healed...i keep reminding myself that memories are monsters and that the mind should always be stronger than those memories...why do i allow myself to feel this way again?

 what's it all about alfie? is this just for one moment we live? what's it all about when you sort it out alfie? are we meant to take more than we give? are we meant to be kind? what is this all about alfie? that is the question.

re-entry 2004

stolen from cummings
(where are you? ahhh... you're just here)

i carry your heart with me
(i carry it in my heart)
i am never without it
(anywhere i go you go, my dear;
and whatever is done by only me
is your doing, my darling)
i fear no fate
(for you are my fate, my sweet)
i want no world
(for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon
has always meant
and whatever a sun
will always sing is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root
and the bud of the bud
and the sky of a tree called life;
which grows higher than the soul can hope
or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder
that's keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart ---
(i carry it in my heart)

-------------------

those 4 hours of heaven and hell those hands of yours on mine those lips... those eyes--- was it just yesterday? or has it been decades? stupid stupid stupid me... why did i let go of the moment? why can't i just stay there with you... if i did, will you stay with me forever??? -----

when i was about 8 months

when i was about 8 months, my father wrote a poem, i didn't know about this ---'til now when my sister explained the poem that i saw in her blog...the first time i read it i felt the creeps- it is as if i have read the poem somewhere. i even wondered; was it my poem??? was it ave's??? i tried to look for answers but didn't see one...so after a couple of days i asked her, she said it was my father's. ha????? for many years i tried to look for even bits of his writings, couldn't find any. i only knew of one title RIGOR MORTIS which was just blurted out by my nanay...theirs is a confusing love affair - a beautiful chaos i would say. didn't know him much...circumstances forced me not to love him much, but one part of me would somehow look for answers...

i started writing since 1988 (was it 1988 when he was brutally killed??? yes) but as to where i got the talent, i am ambivalent---i have no evidences, i have no clues...until now... here--- (thanks sis, for trying to preserve this treasure).

EPILOGUE Here I am now. A man with life uncertain and insecure. Fighting all odds of political existence. I walk with DIFFERENT SHADOWS! And I must learn to live with them. In this world, there are those who are oppressed. And there are those who are persecuted because of their outlook - towards our social structure... towards the "SYSTEM" But as to whether they can endure or resist is a matter of how unrelenting their principles are - or how strong their convictions are. After the SHADOWS... What? They will never stop shadowing - till they get me. I'll be living soon in darkness. Behind BARS perhaps. Or inside a cold coffin. But all threats - all intrigues could not cow us. As long as we are still free to move - WE WILL MOVE. As long as we still have life - WE WILL HOPE. Yes, we still hope for a new day's dawn. The dawn of our freedom. FREE from dictatorial rule. The dawn of justice. FREE from all brutalities. My fate? I do not know what awaits me. I only know I must be brave. avr/11/03/77

boogeyman out

here's something you dont know about her. and it pains me 'coz i have this feeling that you got to know this but you just dont want to for many reasons i can think of. this will be just first of the many. i have promised myself id write everything i remember here so one day youd be able to read and one day you'd know and hope that one day won't be the day the she's gone...

YOU WERE NOT  EXPECTED BUT YOU WERE LOVED BY HER...EVEN NOW. i know so. you were conceived during those times that her relationship with him is on the rocks. you may look up to him as someone good, well-respected, and unfairly-judged by some. the truth? he didnt work and provided for the family coz he believed having his family name, track record and relative riches is enough so he just let her work her ass out coz her pride couldnt take begging from his family all the time. but yes, he was there.

he was there as a symbol. he decides. he was the man of the house. i was even proud having him- so tall, so big, so loud. he forced her to borrow a very huge sum of money from the bank where she works and invest it on something that didnt work so he decided to move us out of the place and bring us to unfamiliar grounds and try to live there. you were in her belly then. when her belly grew big, i began to wonder why i didnt see her throw-up then on second thought i said to myself, what will she throw up when we barely have anything to eat? but she fought for you. she ate what little food i and marion have left to nourish you inside. she touches you in her belly every night. i know coz i see her (most of the time she thought i was asleep) looking at the stars and tears flowing in her cheeks. i always look at her and check on her and marion if they are still breathing. i kept on praying for them to be awake the next day. it was my biggest fear then, i was 5 and i am haunted by the thought that id be left alone...

and you were born, i was crying. i was worried. marion was trying to calm herself by playing. i was at the stairs wondering if she's ever gonna live after giving birth to you. she was weak and pale. i was wondering if you would look okay if you have fought for your life inside her in those months of hunger and pain. then someone told me he heard you cry. i thanked god you were alive. but that someone also told me she isnt moving. my heart beat so fast, what will i do? i was just 5. how can i ever take care of you and marion if she dies? i decided to make some plans. a. go to the nuns and ask for help, have them adopt us. b. beg the landlady (an old maid) to adopt us while i clean her house and help her in sewing or laundry in return. c. find ways to contact grandpa and ask them to think of whats best for us. funny, that time, i didnt think of him (our father). perhaps i knew then that he never really was there even as he was. back then i surrendered to the thought that id grow without a father and that it is okay.

we sold all we had just to buy milk for you and food for us. she did laundry for others again as she was waiting for her wounds to heal. she believes god has plans and that we would all be okay if she finds a good job. she was promised by a certain company that she would be hired as soon as shes fit for work...days after he arrived, he took you away. she was crying, she didnt want to. she was able to start working but on weekends we would look for you. we would ride a bus, the three of us and look for you. after several attempts we saw you and we took you back. you were a beautiful baby. i love seeing you in her arms. marion and i would play with you. you had a strange giggle.you were our baby...

after a few months, i was at school, he came again. he took you away from us (again). that time, there was no crying from her, there were angry voices. and then we did the usual round (of looking for you). you were walking by then, and when we found you, you were thin and your legs were full of insect bites. i was crying. i told her we wont go unless we have you with us. the lady wouldn't give you unless we give her something. she gave everything she had in her bag to the lady...and so we had you again.

when i was in grade 2, our aunt came for a vacation, she said shed borrow you. i said yes and i made her promise to bring you back soonest but i didnt expect that she wouldnt tell her about it and just take you away. i was reprimanded by her. i was crying and i was so guilty. for many months i hated myself for allowing them to take you away from us again...days and months have passed you didnt return. we stopped our usual route in looking for you. i asked her why can't we take you back. she said a bus ride would not be enough anymore...then i realized you were taken so far far away.

living without you isnt easy. your dress are still in my box then and all those fancy jewelries i make you wear when we play-pretend you are a princess. i was so used to giving you bath, feeding you, combing your hair and playing with you all the time. we missed you so. sometimes we miss you so much we just cry. all three of us. day in day out, month in month out year in year out i still see her crying and looking at the stars but this time you are not in her womb anymore, you were somewhere far... those nights i look at her, i also pray to god that you are taken care of, that you are happy, that you are not crying...all i can do is hope, pray and wish that one day youd be back in her arms ...back in our arms again...

throwback 2014: eurosa's flashback

The smell of Formalin still reminds me of something. I was at ‘that’ place. I have seen ‘the man’ for the last time on that dreaded 24th of March year 2009. On that afternoon, torrents of rain were pouring dreadfully in my black umbrella as I was about to go inside. It was an unexpected rain since it was almost summer time of the year. I felt the heavens must have been feeling what I am feeling. It was my only solace; it wept with me.


As I walked along the dark hall entrance, I felt numbness in my entire body. I was nearing insanity, once more. I saw from afar piles of coffins across the other end. I moved closely scrutinizing each, some made of wood and some made of metal. There were assorted colors: red, black, white, silver, gold. Some had intricate designs of Christ’s last supper; others had carved angel designs, most were just plain old, classic-looking coffins. I told myself I wanted none of them when I die. I prefer to be cremated.


Later that afternoon, I had a hard time contemplating, whether or not, to go inside the next room which reads “STRICTLY NO ENTRY”. It was the Embalming Room. I could no longer help it; I had to see him for the very last time before he gets embalmed. The smell of Formalin was somewhat inviting and so; I finally decided to go inside, without any hesitation. Inside that room lay three bodies whose souls have been stripped off by a so-called “Divine Entity”. Their deaths must have been caused by either of two factors, either: an ill-fated accident or a self-destructing vice. Or who knows?


Two corpses were covered with white blankets and were sadly situated on the floor. Seemed to me that this is nothing but showing a lack of compassion towards the dead. I wondered why they would leave the bodies in the floor when there are enough vacant tables. The other body was placed on top of the operating table. Because of the familiar-looking blanket with dark red floral designs, I began to recognize that this body in the operating table was him. I uncovered the body and the sight broke my heart. I looked at him very closely for a couple of minutes because I wanted to imprint this memory in my head for me to remember that moment for the rest of my life. That moment was so precious since it will be the last time that I will see him in his natural, lifeless state since later on he will undergo a post-mortem examination and have the vital parts of his body removed. I held his hand for the last time, poked his pale arms and cried, “Papa, please don’t forget what I told you, keep in touch okay?” Yes, that man is my father. He was my father.


As I started to observe the place, the four walls of the room began to feel creepy. It was deafeningly silent and badly lit. I smell mixed chemical solutions but the only smell which overpowered my olfactory system was Formalin. In the tray, I saw scissors, knives, injections and other sharp objects used for embalming. At the corner of the operating table were long, narrow tubes used to remove blood. I was inside that dreaded place, and I realized I shouldn’t be there. I swore to myself that, as long as I am still alive, that would be the first and last time I’m going inside a place like that. It made me reflect about my own death as well and it also made me realize that I should cherish the life that I have.


The smell of Formalin still reminds me of something. I guess ‘that’ is the place, and there is no other place that can display the inconvenient truth about human beings ephemeral existence, but ‘the morgue’. We are born and then we begin to die. In between, we live. In between, like my father, I’d try live.

AND I’ve also been to me…

 “I’ve been to paradise… AND I’ve also been to me…”

1. At most mornings, 

I brush teeth while on the shower. 

2. One of my greatest pleasures is 

gazing at the rain falling. 

3. Seeing books, notebooks pens 

and papers takes my breath away. 

4. Tries so hard not to be late 

because I usually am impatient 

waiting for other people. 

5. 3 to 4 hours of sleep is 

more than enough for me. 

6. I interpret dreams. 

7. I’m a film buff. 

8. I’m good at keeping memories but 

I also have a talent of auto-deleting  bad ones. 

9. I keep bills and notes in my wallet

sometimes they last for years. 

10. I go to a coffee shop to read but
I usually end up eavesdropping…

11. I like the taste of ice cream
even if it is rainy/raining. 

12. I don’t like eating. 

13. I love sunsets. 

14. I’m so transparent and vocal, 

at times, I wish I wasn’t. 

15. I like basketball and frozen yogurt equally. 

16. I believe that ‘walking’ is the best exorcism.. 

17. I teach, I love it but I don’t like being in a room 

full of people except when I teach. 

18. I can stay very quite for a long long time.

19. I don’t like reading books that are read 

by more than 10 people in the same period. 

20. Sometimes I ride public transpo 

(bus, jeepney, tricycle) just to joyride. 

21. Flowers are good but letters are better.

22. I believe in love but I also believe 

that it can be learned, or faked. 

23. When I meet disgusting people or 

have convos with them, 

I imagine punching them (in the face). 

24. I weep on deaths but I can always 

face that it’s a fact; as natural as life.

25. I can always pretend … 

if I want to and … when needed.  

so not love

after dejuicion, perfect
better decision than none

mob of might-coloreds
stealing some, little space
not to grow, not at all
no dream
no plan
no way

crumpled, pleasing taste
stealing little, some place
not to glow, not at all
no way
no need
no thing

afterward, onwards known
nothing but grapes -humiliated!

loving to the foolest

i went back to the trails we once trod

hoping to find you there still

---but you weren't anymore

my foolish heart

was foolish enough

to assume that

your heart

was foolish enough

to wait foolishly

without a promise

how foolish this heart has been!

i went back to the trails we once trod

hoping to hear your echoes

---but i heard your laughter

your laughter

with someone else

i couldn't talk

i couldn't walk

i couldn't dare 

even to look

at you, at her

how foolish this heart has been!

foolish enough my heart has been again

dreaming you were almost mine

---but you just smiled

and all i have

all i have left

all that is left

are the trails

we once trod

the trails 

the trails

flashback december 2009

yes...very soon, it's december once more...

5 memories lingered from last year's december...

(this is aside from the fun-time with my family in gensan of course)

here they are:

i proved that TGIF is really a must-try-resto...

i saw classmate tamrat wore their national costume

i was surprised when my classmate luella gave me ticket to this ballet show

i realized wrapping gifts in brown paper and ribonning it with straw is easier and practical...

i was showered with tokens...and gifts from friends

throwback: lessons from zombieland

THIS IS ONE OF THOSE MOVIES 

I WOULD WANT TO WATCH

WITH MY BOYMAN AND MANBOY 

FEW MONTHS AGO...

BUT SINCE I AM MILES AWAY THEN... 

THEY DECIDED TO WATCH THE MOVIE 

ugh--WITHOUT ME.

WHEN I CAME HOME FOR THE SEMBREAK, 

I SAW THE VCD(ZOMBIELAND movie) 

BEING RENTED...SO I DID (RENT) IT.

WE WATCHED THE MOVIE TOGETHER

-- FINALLY!

THE BOYMAN WAS A SPOILER AND 

I SO LOVE HIM FOR BEING

JUST THAT... HE KNEW EXACTLY 

WHAT SCENE WILL THE

RULES COME OUT...

(AND SOMEHOW MEMORIZED THEM)-

--HERE THEY ARE!

1. cardio 

(you have to be fit to be able to run away...)

2. double-tap 

(you have to be sure that its really dead...)

3. beware of bathrooms 

(they attack when/where you are most vulnerable...)

4. fasten seatbelt 

(oh well, you know those sudden brakes...)

7. travel light 

(coz you have to run and hide and run...)

16. limber-up 

(didnt work for the main character though...)

17. (don't) be a hero 

(depends on the circumstance...)

22. when in doubt, know your way out 

(almost always needed...)

31. check the backseat 

(to not to have the shock of all shocks...)

and--- 

32. ENJOY THE LITTLE THINGS 

(awww, this one i heart...)

25 GOOD THINGS ABOUT MINDANAO [thoughts as i celebrate 25 years @ Gensan]

as i celebrate my 25th year in gensan, 

i am challenging myself to write

25 good things about mindanao

in 25 minutes
[of course, i know

that i can click 'edit post' anytime :)]

HERE!

1. mindanao state university 

2. notre dame of dadiangas university

3. roundball statues/monuments

4. yellow poppies/ imelda grass

5. saksak-sinagol dialect

6. fresh fruits

7. fresh fish

8. fresh veggies

9. fresh air

10. seashore/beach

11. good traffic

12. notre dame schools

13. fitmart/ kcc/ gaisano

14. 60php - 110php movie ticket

15. church/ chapel/ prayer rooms everywhere

16. tri-people (christians, muslims, lumads)

17. colorful festivals

18. airports, bus terminals, fishports

19. hospitals/ parks/ museums

20. restos with relatively cheap yet yummy meals

21. kind, tolerant, happy people

22. barangay halls that are open during office hours

23. indi film makers

24. humble artists, scientists and philosophers

25. funnest bloggers

new year

all the same

you come

you go

you come again

and say you'd go

apologies

accepted though

back to where

you were before

you and her

once more...

when you need to

when you want to

sound mind says

not fair

coz

it's all the same

you come

you go

you come again

and say you'd go

don't let her go

don't let her

don't.

i think that i shall never see

I think that I shall never see

A poem lovely as a tree.

A tree whose hungry mouth is prest

Against the earth's sweet flowing breast;

 A tree that looks at God all day,

And lifts her leafy arms to pray;

A tree that may in Summer wear

A nest of robins in her hair;

Upon whose bosom snow has lain;

Who intimately lives with rain.

Poems are made by fools like me,

But only God can make a tree.

       --- Joyce Kilmer

choose. choices. choice.

There were many times that my father was ‘absentee’ because of his work, 
and then he was ‘deceased’ and it somehow didn’t matter to me anymore. 
I knew that as the eldest, I have to be my mother’s assistant, 
even a partner in taking care of my siblings and 
make sure our house is a home- 
be it an extension of someone’s garage, a shanty by the ‘riles’ or 
a room of a house of a relative. There were happy times, yes. 
And we are truly a family, my mother and I made sure of that. 
Despite the hardships, we excelled in school. 
We were popular because we didn’t allow others to look down on us 
and we proved that we didn’t have to be rich to be so. 

As a family, we were a strange band of characters-- in the 80’s, 
my mother and the three of us, in the 90’s ‘minus’ my sister 
who died of leukaemia and another sister 
who  was away from us for 10 years 
but then it’s also ‘plus’ a new sister and two brothers 
from my mother’s second marriage. We went through life 
sharing a lot- ideas, 
school supplies, socks, toothpaste (even bath towels at times), 
coveting one another's desserts, borrowing money, 
reading each other’s diaries, 
inflicting pain and kissing to heal it in the same instant, 
loving, laughing, defending, 
and trying to figure out the common thread that bound us all together… 
and that common thread is my mother or the love for her. 

Family (of origin) shaped my life in one way or another- who I am now 
(and I have my own family), how I act, and how I keep my values, 
and especially how I formed my identity. I have to form my own identity 
besides the pre-wired identity that my family built because I realized that 
I cannot depend on that 
(there were times I do not know what I want to be, 
but I am quite sure of what I don’t want to be so I take it from there). 

I remember five years ago, a girl called and told me that her dying father 
is my father too, and that I have to give my forgiveness 
so that he would die in peace. 
Fast forward, no one knows exactly (yet) if this was true 
but I was (and still am) glad to have another family added on my list. 
Here, I was exposed to stories of how ‘this father’ was and 
how I came to observe 
that we share a lot of commonalities and 
this made me wish I have met them 
(he and his family) before he died. Given that, my choices 
and priorities now however 
are based on what I wanted my own family to be – 
less complicated, intact and 
ever-present for each other. This wouldn’t be difficult (I hope) 
because we’re a family of just three. 

But then I asked myself once again: 
would I be this strong-willed, patient, and passionate and 
beautifully disturbed enough to try to help the least-favoured 
if we haven’t gone 
through all those life’s struggles and complexities? 
That is a question I wouldn’t risk answering by application now.

i believe i can fly

jovito's flashback

My father was a heavy equipment operator at Dolefil Inc. He met my mother at the said company who was an employee too; she is in the Research Dept. A common friend introduced them to each other. I was born early August of 1977 in Polomolok South Cotabato, the eldest in a family of five. We live near the mountainside. 

When I was younger, my friends and I always go hiking up to the nearest hills, sometimes our only snacks we brought with us came from fruit trees that we pass along the way, it’s a fun memory. We also played games in a traditional way - lots of running, hide and seek and sometimes we also play slingshots.  Here, we form two groups and using our slingshots, we hail stones to each other imitating action movies. A stone in the eye turned out to be a lesson to me- to take care of myself. It almost got me blind. From then on, I was more careful. I still played physical games though. In those days, computer and other online games are not available yet.  I believe, my childhood was fun and healthy as it is. 

We also entertain ourselves through watching action movies of Lito Lapid, Ramon Revilla Sr., and Fernando Poe Jr. and laugh to the jokes of  Dolphy- but in a black and white screen. I remember that in those times only few of our neighbors can afford to buy TV set so we have to content ourselves by watching through our neighbor’s windows or ask permission to watch with them in their house. When I was old enough to go to school I was enrolled in a nearby Primary school three kilometers from our house. The only way to get there is by foot with our over-used slippers. 

When I was about ten, my father went missing- literally. We exhausted all means to find him (we got to have him declared “dead” for social security reasons only after about 17 years).  My mother was forced to work again, this time as a pineapple harvester to feed all of us. I was also forced to be mature and do some household chores for my younger siblings. But that situation made us stronger and we try to forget the pain ...and try to survive without the head of the family. In high school, during weekends I was in the farm of other people helping to weed off the grass from their cornfields or help them harvest their crops for a minimal amount of money, often just enough to cover my “baon” for the weekdays. 

During my senior year in high school I was a cadet officer of  ROTC. I forgot what that meant, remembering only that we have to wear uniforms in fatigue just like real soldiers and we had wooden rifles as we practice march every afternoon for the inter-school competition. I was also elected as an officer of Student Body Organization of our school as Senator. Some may consider them insignificant but for me, each and every event that happened was important. It molded me to who I am today.

we all need to go...one day

when all i see is blue, where are you?