Delusions of a Guppie, Part 2

"Yurr ivan worlds apart mowr hensum than Bekum, Brad Pitt, Tom Cruise put tah-gethurr!" (Your even worlds apart more handsome than Beckham, Brad Pitt and Tom Cruise put together!)

"Enough! I know that already! Now if you don't have anything else to say, I have a three o'clock with Armani and Versace"

"Well yaah.. I'm writing a feacchurr abew you, I wonder if you could pose for us, for GQ." (Well yeah. I'm writing a feature about you, I wonder if you could pose for us, for GQ.)

"Again!? For the past 10 months, I've been your coverboy! Every issue I'm on the cover!"

"Oh pleeease, like you can do mankind a favor, you're an inspiration. You could save the world and bring world peace just by posing."

"I don't know..."

"The countries of Bulagaria and Guatemala have just established a new religion, they're worshipping you!"

"Check with my assistant."

"Oh, here's my card, your Gorgeousness."

"I'll just have my people call your people ... uh ... what's that buzzing sound?"

My alarm clock buzzed off, and Carson Kresley faded into non-existence. Happy New Year everyone... :D

Delusions of a Guppie, Part 1

"Oh hulew Mistur Adriah-dikow! I've been daayh-ying ta mee' yaw foh tha langist taahym.." (Oh hello Mister Adriatico! I've been dying to meet you for the longest time!)

"Uh... Do I know you?"

"Ooh.. I dun think seow.. I'm jisanavid faahn'ah yurrs. I'm Carseen..." (Ooh.. I don't think so.. I'm just an avid fan of yours. I'm Carson.)

"You're ... who?"

"Kresley. Carson Kresley?"

"Oh, the TRL guy!"

"Oh no, nooh, Gawd no! The Queer Eye for the Staright Guy guy... The fash'n divaah.."

"Uh..."

"Well yaah, its TV, I mean I forgot that you're rackin' up billions of dollars every nano-second. Well, we transform a disgusing towwd into a million bucks!"

"So I'm a disgusting toad!? Guards! Get this ... thing ... out of my face!"

"Wait! No, oh no, Hevans no! With that purfec town, byuti-faahl gorjis baahdi, classe fash'nbl clozz, no o'cors no!" (Wait! No, oh no, Heavens no! With that perfect tone, beautiful gorgoues body, classy fashionable clothes, no of course no?)

"So what do you want!?"

(to be concluded…)

Made and Unmade: Equi (Part 2)

Now the things that un-made my morning:

1. I sneezed so hard that I banged my face in the mirror … with some little bubbles forming at the nose.

2. I realized that Mina’s pregnant … and her boyfriend left her.

3. I realized that my ‘other’ miniature Wile E figurine was inside my stolen knapsack … with my phone and my wallet in it.

4. I forgot to pluck the tissues off my chin … and realized it when the cabbie gave me this weird look when I boarded the taxi.

5. I dropped my half-filled mug of coffee … and realized that I've ran out of beans for another cup.

6. I got a call from my Californian friend Tyler … informing me that the client had backed out.

7. I got another text from another high school classmate informing me that Joey, another classmate … met an accident last night. (But he's okay now.)

8. I found a hundred bucks in my laundry bin … and found out that the other half of the bill was missing.

9. I got another email from another friend informing me that she’s getting married … to a guy twenty years her senior.

10. I remembered my Rotary Youth club friends … and realized that I’m no longer friends with them.

Isn’t life sweet? The perfect life, I’d like to call it. the balance of everything; good and bad, amusing and embarrassing, exciting and disappointing … equilibrium! I just hope that next time, bad things come first before the good ones.

Made and Unmade: Equi (Part 1)

Things that made my morning:

1. Watching myself sneeze in front of the mirror. It amazes me how the human face contorts to make its wearer so repulsively cute. “huuuh … hu … hu … uh.a … a … ah-ts!”

2. Remembering the once famous expression “Anong petsa na!?” and realizing what it “really” meant now that I can speak tagalong. I recall with so much amusement how, when I was an hour late, my ‘babaeng-bakla’ friend Mina growled at me with both her hands on her hips, “Nung phe-chah na!?”

3. Catching the Road Runner Show on the tube and seeing my favorite cartoon character Wile E. Coyote in action. It’s been like forever that I haven’t seen his ingenuity. Ton, you have my minature Wile E, do take care of him while I’m away.

4. Cutting my chin with the razor and remembering my old roommate Anthony. He taught me to tear a bit of tissue paper and stick it on the lacerated area to absorb the blood. One time he forgot to pluck it all off and went to school with his face dotted with “small square-ish white thingys.”

5. Accidentally dropping my mug of coffee and shouting “Yati!” It’s a Cebuano cussword for … I don’t know … I don’t think it has a Tagalong or an English equivalent. And I realized that I haven’t uttered that since I moved here in the capital.

6. Getting a call from my Californian friend who tries so desperately to speak the Filipino language. “Pow-tah perey, di kow ah-lam, mukah ekong gegow!” (Son of a bitch dude, I didn’t know, I feel like a complete jerk!) One more year Tyler, one more year and you’re getting there.

7. Receiving a text message from my high school classmate informing me that James, our classmate, been recovering from his paralysis.

8. Finding the hundred bucks in my laundry. A hundred bucks may not seem that big, but hey, it’s enough for my Cappuccino.

9. Getting an email from one of my bestfriends, Joyce, announcing that she’s having her second baby within the week. Whoa! That’s two babies in less than a year. I can sense a basketball team coming out of her. Or a cheering squad if it’ll be all girls.

10. Hearing the words “Layshus,” “Charmus,” “Chuvaness,” and “Chenelyn” on the tube, making me reminisce my Rotary Youth club days. To Mark and Princess “Layshus mirasol chasmus!” To Joseph and Vanessa “Been there … been that!”

(to be concluded...)

The World is My Pigsty (Part 2)

Then something I have noticed
Whilst I was gliding by;
Oh what is this!? Aak! A Stinking rock!
The stench was awful; it made me cry.

Chaos, turmoil, mayhem.
In that world they all abound,
Apathetic, indifferent to anything,
If one farts, will they hear a sound?

So absorbed with trivialities,
Of cars, parties, and their cavities,
Of how many girls they banged last night,
And how they made their underwear white!

The metalmouths are approaching!
With fangs of steel, and saliva dripping,
Take cover! Hide! Run for your life!
They maybe rich, but they also bite!

First prize in stupidity, wow!
Congrats! Now, take a bow.

Humans, Oh humans!
When will you even learn?
Appalling, horrendous, disgraceful,
Oh shut your lips, you big fat fool!

Third rock from the fiery orb,
Dirty, foul, depressing, yet big,
The world is my pigsty;
And mankind is my pig.

The World is My Pigsty (Part 1)

I want to share with you this trash-of-a-poetry that I wrote (in 10 minutes flat!), driven by the inspiration I got from this group of young urbanite professionals, armed with laptops, and killer shoes, and all.

Okay, so there I was, sitting on my favorite chair at Seattle’s Best, sipping my coffee, puffing my smoke, reading my beloved Zafra book, when this adorable flock of cultivated metropolitan creatures came barging in, with voices so soft, windows were breaking.

I lay my book down to find out what the hullabaloo was all about. But before the book came into contact with the table, my eardrums were whacked with Oh-My-Gawds, Totallys, E’-was-soo-kewls, As-ifs, Like like likes, etcetera, etc. They were so cute, I want to smash their heads.

“Shut uuuup! You People are Pathetic! I Don’t Give a Rat’s Ass! I Don’t F**KIN Care!” I screamed. In my mind. Being the civilized person that I was, I slowly picked up my book and hoped the earth would open up and swallow them. I resumed my reading. Tried.

But thanks to the angels from the kingdom underneath, I forgot the page number where I left off.

But the best is yet to transpire. While I was desperately leafing through pages to locate where I stopped, I sensed the melodious voices become louder and louder. It seems they’re getting … nearer? And much to my delight, they occupied the umbrella beside mine. Oh joy!

Grabbed my pen, some tissue and began writing. After 10 minutes and a nano-second, I finished this labor of love especially dedicated to the pigs of society. Thank you guys, you made my day! *kiss, kiss*

(to be concluded...)

To My Dansel in Shining Armor

To my cousin, my sister, my best friend, my worst enemy, my dansel in shining armor, my warrior, my conscience, my Cokee, Happy Birthday Cookiday! Kuya loves you so so much much! Although we're now distant to each other, I'm just around the bend. Just call or text or email me when you need me; I'd fly there pronto. I miss our talks, our bondings, our everything. Most of all, I miss YOU loads, see you this Christmas! Can't wait to see you! As what Atsie always say "You're made for greater things!" Stay pretty, stay sweet, stay maldita, stay as Cokee are you are!

The Kite Runner (Hosseini)

The Kite Runner (Khaled Hosseini)

"In his debut novel, The Kite Runner, Khaled Hosseini accomplishes what very few contemporary novelists are able to do. He manages to provide an educational and eye-opening account of a country's political turmoil--in this case, Afghanistan--while also developing characters whose heartbreaking struggles and emotional triumphs resonate with readers long after the last page has been turned over. And he does this on his first try.

"The Kite Runner follows the story of Amir, the privileged son of a wealthy businessman in Kabul, and Hassan, the son of Amir's father's servant. As children in the relatively stable Afghanistan of the early 1970s, the boys are inseparable. They spend idyllic days running kites and telling stories of mystical places and powerful warriors until an unspeakable event changes the nature of their relationship forever, and eventually cements their bond in ways neither boy could have ever predicted.

Even after Amir and his father flee to America, Amir remains haunted by his cowardly actions and disloyalty. In part, it is these demons and the sometimes impossible quest for forgiveness that bring him back to his war-torn native land after it comes under Taliban rule. ("...I wondered if that was how forgiveness budded, not with the fanfare of epiphany, but with pain gathering its things, packing up, and slipping away unannounced in the middle of the night.")

"Some of the plot's turns and twists may be somewhat implausible, but Hosseini has created characters that seem so real that one almost forgets that The Kite Runner is a novel and not a memoir. At a time when Afghanistan has been thrust into the forefront of America's collective consciousness ("people sipping lattes at Starbucks were talking about the battle for Kunduz"), Hosseini offers an honest, sometimes tragic, sometimes funny, but always heartfelt view of a fascinating land. Perhaps the only true flaw in this extraordinary novel is that it ends all too soon. --Gisele Toueg --This text refers to the Hardcover edition."

(Review By Amazon.com, Photo By Reading Group Guides)

The Perpetual Undergrad, Part 3

“Can someone recite the Expanded Accounting Theory?” asked the professor.

“Ser!” one student shot her left hand up in the air.

“Hmp…” the professor looked t the girl for a moment, knitted his eyebrows, pushed his spectacles up the ridge of his nose, and called out again. “Anyone?”

This time, the girl held her hand higher, determined to be called by the teacher. Sensing that no one wants to answer, aside from the girl whose left hand is now higher up in the air than ever, he heaved a sigh and pointed to the girl, “Alright, you there, Miss Rexona Model! Recite the Expanded Accounting Theory…”

“Okay Ser,” she stood up, and began reciting. “Assets equals LiabElities plus Owner’s Iq…”

“Wait, wait!” the professor interrupted. “Ano nga ulit yun, hija?"
“Owner’s…”

“No, the word before that.”
“Plus…”

“Before that, hija.”
“LiabElities…”

“That’s it!” he was so amused, he seemed so triumphant. The students started to laugh, medium laughter. The poor girl, on the other hand, just scratched her head in confusion, looked at her classmates and … well … smiled, no idea what’s going on around her.

“Ser, hindi pa po tapos yun…”
“Sige … please … continue!” the professor uttered between gurgles.

“Assets equals LiabElities plus …”
Humongous laughter. “No hija, say LiabIlities…”

“Oh, sorry ser.” She became aware of the situation. “I’m sorry classmates…” she smiled.
“LiabElities…” she repeated. Hysterical laughter.

“LiabILIties…” reiterated the professor.
“LiaBILETis…” some students fell down laughing, and so did the teacher.

The poor girl turned scarlet. Tears threaten to trickle from her eyes. She was still standing, while everyone around her busted their lungs out laughing.

“LyaBILITis!”

* * *

Wait!

Oh, where was I? … Uhm … Ahh … Was I writing about my previous schools? I was!? Man! This wasn’t supposed to be about discrimination towards Visayan people! Darn it! … Guess I’ll just finish this next time. I’m tired. Besides, my train (of thought) had gone astray.

To be continued (the story), will tell you how this author stood up for all the promdi’s (read: prom di prabins / from the province) of the world; and how the poor probinsyana almost strangled her seatmate to death (You go, Bisaya guurl!). And also, about the universities. For now, I really tired, and I need to rest.

The Perpetual Undergrad, Part 2

University # 2: Campus Beside the Sea
Location: Dumaguete City, Negros Oriental

The province is not only renowned because of the famed Apo Island (which, by the way, is one of the best dive sites in the world), the Dolphins, the Sand Bar, etc., but also because of its universities. Dumaguete City, the capital of Negros Oriental, is dubbed as the University Town. Why? Because of the many universities in the city. Duh!

Furthermore, with the random killings that have happened in recent years and the infamous Dumaguete Scandal, the city could not carry on with its previous moniker (i.e. City of Gentle People). Hence the change. Not sure though, that’s just my hypothesis.

Course: Psychology (for 4 semesters), then Political Science (for 1 semester).

Fact: The University is one of the best schools in the Philippines, though it’s unfamiliar to some Luzon-ians (What dyo call people from Luzon? Tagalog? Nah. Not everyone’s Tagalog.) Yahoogle it up if you want, Silliman University.

Prominence cannot be equated with excellence, you know! If a school’s well-known, it doesn’t necessarily follow that it’s a good school. Take for example the case of this particular university in Manila (I deleted the name of the school, I don’t want to receive hate mails. Haha!). Famous, yes, but just look at the licensure exams results. Talo! And they keep on brandishing that they’re this and that (Again, scrapped). I know, licensure exam result's not the sole determinant on whether the school's good or not, but it's one of the-. Say, we take two schools, one prominent but produces lesser graduates, while the other an anonym to many but spanks the exams real good; who's better? Need I answer my own question? (/me resisting the urge to say 'Duh'.)

Fiction: Visayan people are poor in English. *snap fingers above the head* Excuse me!?

I don’t know why some people are prejudiced and discriminatory towards us, Bisaya. Can it be attributed to their (not referring to anyone, ang tamaan wag magalit) *gasp* superiority complex? Or maybe it’s the ‘defense mechanism’ talking? Uh… because they’re threatened? *suck air violently and cover the mouth with one hand as if expressing disbelief*

Why do people snigger when they hear Bisaya people talk? Perhaps they find the accent funny. Or maybe … I don’t know.

One more thing, though. In the movies, Bisaya maids are always portrayed as stiff-tongued, ridiculous characters. “Ati, Ati, tapus ku na pu patologin si Junatan, po-ponta na pu aku sa palingki.” What the heeeeell was that all about!? When do Bisaya people get to be leads? I can count only a few. But that’s beside the point, I know.

*Photo: Silliman University Website*
(to be concluded…)

The Perpetual Undergrad, Part 1

All in all, I have attended 4 universities; two in Mindanao, one in the Visayas, and one in Luzon. I have already bypassed two commencement ceremonies.

And I’m still on my second year in college. Cool, isn’t it?

It’s always been an adventure being a student. Loads fun, trust me.

University # 1: University at the Mountain Top
Location: Marawi City, Lanao del Norte

A friend once remarked that studying at MSU is like joining “Survivor” for four years. Voting off is held at the end of the semester, and your reward is not a million dollars, but a diploma. Here, it’s survival of the fittest. Guess, I’m not one of the fittest.

Course: International Relations, Major in Asian Studies

Fact: It’s a very peaceful campus. Fog as early as 2 o’clock in the afternoon. Cool (literally and figuratively)!

Fiction: People just open fire at each other, carnage in the streets, Muslims are evil. (What the--!? Certainly NOT true! Do you want to debate? Makes me want to write about this.)

Amazing bits of info:

• Picturesque and beautiful campus, overlooking Lake Lanao.
  
  
• When feel like “emote-ing,” just go to the golf-course and cry yourself dry. Plus, the very thick fog adds up to the drama.
  
  
• At about 5 to 6 in the afternoon, when the sun is ready to set, the “Sleeping Lady” emerges. It’s the I-don’t-know-the-name” mountain ranges, that when seen from afar (especially at the MSU golf course) resembles, well, a lady sleeping, curves and all. It’s so breathtaking. Plus orangey tint of the sky, and the gentle sun rays, Oh, so beautiful!
  
  
• Gastronomy’s delish! Pater and Beef Randang, especially. And oh, the art of eating straight from the cellophane, with no utensils, how to tear the plastic in order not to make a mess, and the “rituals” that goes with it.
  
  
• With only 50 pesos in you pocket, you can survive for a day. Honest. But that was before, about 4 years ago, I don’t know at this time if the prices are still the same.
  
  
• Unless you own a car, the only way to go in and around the campus is through walking. It’s good for the heart, you know. Plus no pollution.
  
  
• The campus is also tagged as a mini-U.P. because of its size, and a mini-Baguio because of the climate. Cold in the morning and afternoon, freezing at night. Very thick fog, especially at night, about 5-10 feet visibility only, sometimes, 3-5. And I’m not exaggerating.
  
  
• We have our own SM (not Shoe Mart), where we watch the latest movie months ahead its release.
  
  
• More to come about Mindanao State University – Main Campus…

*Photo: MSU-Main Website*
(to be concluded...)

As The Night Fades

Gazing at the moon, I'm wondering;
Is she happy? Or like me, weeping?
Can she feel my pain, and sympathize?
I wonder what's behind those pretty eyes.


Flick the lighter, puff on the stick and exhale,
The earth is damp, and the air smells stale.
Breeze getting colder, the moon is fading
Soon, pretty soon, it will be morning.

Siete Marias (Ken, Yeng, Glo)

American Ambassador Kenney

Just when I thought the much-celebrated Subic Rape Case finally over, another issue sprang up. This time, it’s about the custody of Lance Smith. The Philippine government and the American Embassy are now in a tug-of-war as to where the US Officer should be detained: the US Embassy or Smith temporary residence, the Makati City Jail.

The American camp anchored their claim on a particular Visiting Forces Agreement (VFA) provision, saying that Smith should be in their custody because the court decision’s not yet final. I’m sorry for my inadequate knowledge, I cannot give further details about the issue for as I’ve said I haven’t been following the case closely.

Enter the American Ambassador. She went the Department of Foreign Affairs (DFA) to appeal. So she was met by the press and was interviewed.

She emphasized on how the US troops extended its assistance to the Bagyo Reming people, and how “our forefathers fought alongside each other to liberate THIS country” and blah blah. Her point was perhaps “We’ve been helping you out for the past bazillion years, so we need you to give us back the favor. You ingrates!” Yes, it was more like a ‘sumbat.'

I don’t know. I like Francis Ricciardonne more than her.


Yeng Constantino (of PDA fame)

I could not believe she just turned 18. Like she’s very very talented for her age. She sings, write songs, everything. The hit “Hawak Kamay” was sung AND composed by her. Wala lang. Ang babaw ko talaga. He-he.


Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo (La Presidenta)

Mole, be gone! ‘Nuf said.

(Photo From: Wikipedia)

Siete Marias (Dinky & Nicole)

Dinky Soliman (former DSWD Secretary)

The Lower House convened to pass an amendment to their house rules. They needed to make the change to hasten the submission of the proposal for the Constituent Assembly (Con Ass). And eventually fuel the Cha Cha Train. It was a no-sleep session of the Congress, which lasted until the wee hours of the morning. Halfway through the proceedings and the heated arguments, Dinky made her presence felt.

To refresh everyone’s memory, Dinky Soliman once served the government as a Cabinet Secretary of the Department of Social Welfare and Development (DSWD). And when the Jose Pidal controversy broke out, Soliman turned her back on the President. Her other ‘achievements’ include co-organizing the Hyatt 10, attacking her former master with such abrasive words, etc. A balimbing, in other words.

So Dinky was there; she was seated in the audience gallery wearing her signature silly strip of colored hairpiece. Being the epal that she still is, she held aloft a puppy stuffed toy and waved it as if to say that the majority members are tuta’s of GMA and JDV. Gimme a friggin' break!

Reality check Miss Dinky: How many years had you been the slobbering tuta and lickspittle of GMA, huh? A day before you stabbed her on the back, you even led the singing of “If We Hold On Together”, and while singing you were even holding up the hand that fed you. Enough already. Wala ka nang kredibilidad. By continuing your pa-epal, you’re only reinforcing the public's perception of you being a balimbing. Enough Dinky, enough.

I’m not really a GMA supporter but sour grapes like Dinky make me green about the gills.


Nicole (Subic Rape Case plaintiff)

I just want to congratulate their camp for winning the case. Though not all of the accused were sent to jail, at least the primary suspect, Lance Corporal Smith, will not be able to escape the life behind bars. I haven’t been closely monitoring the case so I can’t say much. This is a triumph of the Philippine justice system against the Americans. Or is it?

(Photo From: DSWD Soliman)

(to be concluded…)

Siete Marias (Dustin & Kandice)

Dustin and Kandice (Amazing Race team)

(Everyone, please put down those rocks. Don't stone me to death because I'm so babaw. Please bare with my ka-babawan. I'm grieving.)

There’s no point watching Amazing Race, now that my favorite team (the beauty queens) had been given the elbow. They’re out of the competition. My heart still bleeds for Dustin and Kandice.

Every time the camera showed them, my world would then be on a standstill. Not because of their good looks (I don’t find them that striking), but because they’re fun to watch. They’re not your stereotypical prima donna of beauty queens. They’ve got brains, they’ve got brawns, they’re not afraid to get down and dirty, and they’re what you call ‘team.'

When the other teams shouted at each other and constantly argued, the two blondes never quarreled. They helped each other out and they know how to remain calm. I think that’s their strength; giggling their way to the top. No one wanted to forge an alliance with them. No one wanted them, everyone hated the “f*ckin’ blondes.” In fact, the teams even connived to kick them out of the competition. They didn’t succeed, however, until there were four teams left (the male models, the dating pair, the single moms, and the beauty queens).

My brother asked me who I am rooting for, now that the girls are out. Honestly I don’t know. I’ve always disliked Rob and Kimberly, they’re always shouting at each other, especially this Rob guy who can’t seem to handle frustrations and setbacks. I don’t like the male models either. Much more than the Alabama team. They don’t know what I means to work as a team, to work together. Urgh!

Now that the beauty queen are no longer in the running, my fanaticism with Amazing Race ends. The girls have proven that, after all, it’s possible to maintain your “poise under pressure.” I guess I’ll just have to emulate them, shrug my shoulders and say “we can’t all be first."

"It's not in our blood to give up until it's done. If there was a stereotype of us just playing with our tiaras all day, I'm hoping it's broken now." Kandice (Amazing Race 10)

(Photo from: About Reality TV Website)

(to be concluded…)

Siete Marias (Miriam Defensor)

Here’s a list of seven of the women who made headlines, the women who made the political landscape quiver, and (generally) the women who stood out (for me) last week.

Sen. Miriam Defensor Santiago

Again, Miriam stole the spotlight. She took to the lectern her signature fiery rhetoric and called some Supreme Court Justices ‘earthworms.' Man, Miriam is definitely stronger than Typhoon Reming!

As I vegetated on my couch half-drunk, I knew I had to put down the remote control and observe her being Miriam-ness. Miriam yelled. Miriam screamed. Miriam went berserk. I had the urge to stand up and applaud.

The issue: she had been removed from the official list of candidates for the next Chief Justice post. She suspected conspiracy and sabotage among them ‘earthworms’ to boot her out of the list. She said she wasn’t angry, but “irate, furious, ballistic, fuming, foaming at the mouth, hitting the roof, homicidal” and basically she enumerated every word synonymous with ‘angry.’ That’s my girl!

"I am humiliated! Debased! Degraded! And not only that, I feel like throwing up to be living my middle years in a country of this nature!"

With her powerful voice, feisty façade, florid verbiage, and Harvard-meets-Iloilo accent, she pointed a finger at an imaginary someone and screamed “I am nauseated! I spit in the face of Chief Justice Artemio Panganiban and his cohorts in the Supreme Court!” (multiple exclamation points here)

What is there not to love about a woman who looks straight into the camera and utters “gusto kong mangagat ng tao”? Although I find some of her views absurd and out of this world, I love her still. She’s amazing, she takes my breath away every time she opens that mouth.

I love you Miriam, I’m with you all the way. We’re destined for each other.

(Photo from: Biography of Miriam Defensor Santiago Website)

(to be concluded…)

Be A Grinch, Avoid Christmas, 3

I retired myself to a nearby coffee shop, grabbed a Venti and made my exit. But as I was heading towards the taxi bay, I noticed this thin old lady selling miniature ‘desktop’ Christmas trees. The ones that are just about 8 inches tall with a round piece of wood as its base. Yeah, that.

I bought three trees of varying sizes, and placed it on top of my bedside table beside the ashtray. After about 30 minutes of arranging and rearranging and rearranging and rearranging (read: OC) the miniature trees, I phoned my mom.

I said I was sorry for not remembering. “Remembering, what?” she asked. I made references to the star since I couldn’t say it directly. “You know, my annual assignment. Christmas. You know, tree. Stuff.”

“Oh the star?"

"Uh... yeah. So... who planted it?"

“Ah, that would have to wait until you come home.”

Man…

I told my mom I miss her, and we hung up.

Merry Christmas everyone.


(referring to the photo: Oh man! Those friggin' wires! Oh well, Pilipinas.)

Be A Grinch, Avoid Christmas, 2

So I boarded a taxi and went to the mall, in hopes of finding solitude. Yes, I achieve a good amount of alone-ness in the company of anonyms. I’m weird, I know. But in this time and age, who isn’t?

And boy was I dead wrong. So wrong. Going to the mall to escape Christmas-induced homesickness is one hell of a trap! Like I fell into a manhole in a tux. Uh… what the hell did I just say?

So...

As soon as the guards eep-ed me with their electronic black palo-palo, my eyes were bombarded with greens and reds. Oh so Christmas-y. The sound boxes blared with music from my Santa-Clause-blah childhood, demanding me to “deck the hall with hollies and whatnot” and that I should “better not pout and better not cry” because “Santa clause is coming to town."

(Sidenote: When I was little, I had this weird obsession with snowballs. I used to think that Santa’s coming to our house to pelt me with those. So hours before the noche buena, when everyone’s getting ready for the feast, I scrape the freezer for ice and formed it into jagged little ‘snow’ orbs.)

I asked the Pizza Hut girl with a Santa hat “Since when lang kayo nag decorate for Christmas?” She told me about a month ago, and proceeded to recite their latest promos… Lady, I only asked about the decors, and no I don’t want to buy your Cheesy Hawaiian Volcano Iceberg Titanic Ultra-Magnetic Super-adhesive Maximum Cavity Protection Anti-Bacterial pizza.

I visit that mall almost everyday for my coffee, for the last bazillion years! And that’s the only time I noticed the ornamentation. I thought to myself “I must’ve been working like a cow.” (variation: “like a prostitute.”)

As my friend Erin would say “This is sooo not helping…! That is sooo going into my hate list!"

(to be concluded...)

Be A Grinch, Avoid Christmas, 1

As I was heading for home one evening, a disheartening albeit unfamiliar feeling overwhelmed me. I wracked my brains out in search of an answer, for this had never happened to me.

I stopped from my hike and looked up. Yes, I recognized it finally. The village’s lampposts abloom with Christmas décor. It's ... (sing with me) It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas!

Na-ah. It’s … it’s … it’s this homesickness thing again! Urgh!

Earlier that day, I was in my usual frenetic self. Waking up, dodging traffic, inciting office wars, coffee, coffee, coffee, yosi, yosi, yosi, scream, get frustrated, tad bit of alcohol, wham, bam, alakazam! And the series starts all over again when the sun floats back up the following day.

Two words to describe my everyday existence in the metro: same-old.

I checked my phone for the calendar, November 21st, and there I bumped into a realization – two days ago last year, I planted the star on top of the family tree.

Being the prodigal son, I have been given the honor (?) of my family of installing that precious star for ten years (ten Christmases) now. And this the first instance that I wouldn't be able to carry out my duty as the “star trooper."

The realization produced a sinking feeling that made me want to purchase tickets for home and back. However that’s close to being impossible. Well, unless I want to get fired and whore myself for a living.

I quickly ran towards my building and hurriedly get dressed. I didn’t know why or where to go but I figured I don’t want to get stuck alone. I have to surround myself with people to, hopefully, get my mind off this melancholia.

(to be concluded…)

So Freakin' What!? (Part 4)

People tell me that I am a walking contradiction, perhaps they’re right. Some even commented that I may have an acute case of bipolar disorder, since they can hardly place a finger on whether I’m introverted or an extrovert.

One moment I’m this beer-guzzling dude who refuses to leave the bar not until he falls flat and wipes the floor with my face, and the next moment I’m a bibliophile whom you can lock up at PowerBooks for over a century and not get bored.

I’m noisy and silent, shy and outgoing, candid and guarded, loud and gentle, restrained and extreme, good and evil. Ooh, and the smell of coffee excites me.

I used to be accident-prone, cheated death 4 times, the last being self-perpetrated. I cannot function without alcohol in my system, keeping tequila and rum bottles in my locker before. My basic food groups are … Oh, I don’t eat, I only drink! Before!

Whoever invented the lighter was a genius, it’s the greatest invention of all time. I used to write, I used to sing, I used to debate, and I used to know the basics of 5 languages. I know I’m being incoherent but my favorite motto is: So What!?

I consider my life interesting, and the details that I have just shared to you is just one-sixteenth of my entire story.

I am me and be settled with it! Love me, hate me; I couldn’t care less.

(end of speech)

So Freakin' What!? (Part 3)

Second speech: freshmen orientation
State of mind: annoyed; combative and eager to annihilate everyone

Wardrobe: a Ramones t-shirt, tattered pants, and a pair of old-school shoes
Title: So What!?

I am Dan Adriatico, ** years old, raised in a rather dysfunctional family, and have attended 4 universities.

I headed three organizations in my previous school, so maybe people liked me and I would like to think that I am friendly. I am a proud Bisaya and am not yet comfortable and fluent with Tagalog. Yes it’s shameful but I’m slowly learning.

I have acknowledged the idea that some people are prejudice and discriminatory towards us provincial folks, nonetheless I don’t really care for I know that in certain domains, we are better.

Our household is, to a certain extent, unusual. My dad sustains four families, including ours; but we’re the original. My mom’s a guidance counselor and a social worker, not your ordinary day job. My sister earns more than my mom. My brother doesn’t look like the rest of us. And I, on the other hand, am the black sheep.

Like most teenagers, I have past, a dismal one. I was a troubled youth, an alcoholic, rebellious and disturbed. I even made an attempt to take my own life, four times!

Many people thought that I live a wonderful life because I never leave my room without my smile properly in place. I was an achiever; have a loving family, had tons of friends; I am not intellectually inferior, my family is not underprivileged, I live in comfort, it was almost perfect.

But they didn’t know, I was not happy. Kurt Cobain murdered himself not because nobody loved him, but because everyone did. No, I’m not saying everyone loved me, I just thought the line’s cool.

(to be concluded...)

So Freakin' What!? (Part 2)

First speech: literature class
State of mind: philosophical; excited; eager to make a good impression

Wardrobe: a polo shirt, khaki pants, and a pair of clean, white sneakers
Title: Gladiators

Life's never fair, cliché yes, but true. It never stop s pelting us with rocks, boulders even. Its waters treacherous, its waves fatal. And plunging into it, without the necessary defenses, chances are, you will just sink.

And before you know it, society’s piranhas have already ripped you apart. In the long run you will be swept onto dry land defeated, broken, bloody, even lifeless.

In this day and age, it is imperative for an individual to toughen his nerves, sharpen his claws and thicken his face for him to get through. In a society where life is so fast-paced and competition seems to get bloodier, one must know how to play life’s games, attacks should either be aggressive or subtle; and a person must know when to hang on and when to let go.

Otherwise, you will be lumped with other outcasts of the society. I was one of them; angry, bitter, depressed.

Just like in ancient Rome, we are the gladiators, problems are the lions and life is the arena. Some are doomed to fail as a consequence of their weaknesses, while others succeed because of sheer steadfastness to triumph.

That was the story of my life, the description of my existence. But that was then. With the crises that I have surmounted and the predicaments that I have hurdled, I emerged triumphant. Better, in every sense of the word.

(Sidenote: Dang! It sucked bazillion times more sucking power than a vacuum cleaner! Gawd, and oh so mushy!)

(to be concluded…)

So Freakin' What!? (Part 1)

One of my weird obsessions is listening to my voice, not the singing voice but the normal voice. I admit I do not own the most pleasant voice in the entire macrocosm, but it’s a compulsion I can’t do without.

Recording it and playing it back all over again gives me some sort of “pleasant disgust.” When it comes to my voice, I am my number fan, and also the one who hurls tomatoes towards the face.

I’m currently attending two schools at the moment; and you know the drill when you’re the “fresh meat” in class, they would demand an introduction from you as if it would kill them if you wouldn’t. So I conceded.

I have the worst case of stage-fright; I would shiver in front of people, slurring and all. I would let out words so fast, it would leave the audience wondering if it was Russian or Chinese.

But thankfully, my stage-fright didn’t manifest in the two occasions where I hogged the lectern. Since it was my first time to speak before an unfamiliar audience (Luzonians) I didn’t bother picking the right words, or tweaking what needs to be tweaked. I thought, “This isn’t Visayas or Mindanao, I don’t an image yet to protect." So I channeled my sour-self and proceeded to the podium.

Since it was extemporaneous, I set my phone to its recording mode and recorded my two speeches to find out how well or how bad I performed.

The first one that I delivered was for a literature class, so I thought mushy and flowery words would come in handy. But when I reviewed it, I realized I sucked big-time.

The second one, I presented in a freshmen orientation class. I didn’t know they have this also. It was rather spontaneous, the professor kept signaling me to wrap it up.

(This is the transcribed-unedited copy of the impromptu performance so forgive the errors. But of course I've already deleted my usual fillers of ‘like’, ‘uh’, ‘y’know’, etc.)

(to be concluded…)

Scream, Weep, Free (Part 3)

I reached into my pocket and drew out a box of cigarette. I took out a stick, and put it between my lips.

Without looking, I handed him the box. Again I sunk my hand into my pocket and fished out my lighter. I looked at it for awhile, wondered if it was really my lighter, or if I picked up a wrong one at the bar. Mine was green; the one I was holding was red. Oh well, I mumbled, and flicked it.

I aimed hard, and managed to light the wrong end of the stick.

“Ai, punieta!” I moaned. We laughed. “Beh (Let me)!” He said, snatching the lighter and lighting my cigarette. Puffing away, we sat down quietly.

“Grabe no? So depressing, life.” I said, breaking the silence.

“Know what Lyle, you’re better than that, you don’t deserve this. But, you know, shit happens. Di ba, you always tell me ‘it doesn’t fuckin’ matter how many fuckin’ times you fuckin’ fall, but rising after every fuckin’ stumble?” He responded;

I just smiled, and tapped his back.

“Let’s go?” I said. “The dorm will be closing in five minutes. I’m sure the penguin’s inside her office by now, waiting for the latecomers."

Impersonating the dorm matron, he croaked, “Asa na man pud ka gikan Lyle? Hubog na pud ka!? Imo na pud gi-impluwensiya si Alix!” (Where have you been Lyle? You’re drunk again!? And you even brought Alex with you!)

We laughed again.

“To infinity and beyond…” hoisting his left hand, he howled.
Curling my lips to a smile, I replied “Your friendly neighborhood Spiderman…”

Scream, Weep, Free (Part 2)

Mopping my eyes again with my sleeve, I sat on the ridge; knees touching the chin, arms wrapping around my legs. I slowly rocked from side to side.

Alex sat down beside me, laid a palm on my back, and lightly rubbed it. “Just give me a minute Lex.” I said, this time a little sober. Slowly he drew his arm back.

I buried my face into my hands, and silently sobbed.

“Haay…” I let out a deep sigh after a minute or two. I looked at him with red, puffy eyes; and shrugged. He didn’t say anything; instead he just nodded, seemingly telling me “it’s alright".

“Lex, it’s so unfair. I don’t understand. Why, ngano ingon-ana sila?"

“Because you permit them. Know what, you are just too … kind, maski na you know that you’re being abused, you still let them. That’s your downfall eh, you make life easier for other people to the point of ignoring your own. I don’t know if you’re a masochist or you’re just plain stupid.

“But… they’re my friends. And I’m not asking for anything in return."

“Used to be your friends. And of course you’re asking for something, for them to reciprocate. If you’re not asking for anything, what’s the point of all the screaming and getting drunk, huh? You’re frustrated, why? Because you’ve found out that these so-called friends are unable to return your kindness. Lyle, you’ve been blind. From the start it’s obvious, but then you refuse to see it. Maybe you’re right; you’re stupid and a loser."

I didn’t budge. I remained silent, eyes still fixed to the ground. His voice rose with every word, he sounded very angry. But I wasn’t surprised; in fact I’ve been expecting this.

(to be concluded…)

Scream, Weep, Free (Part 1)

“I’m a loser!” I screamed. “Yeah, that’s what I am! The sorest of losers! “Loser! Loser! Loser!!!” I screamed, my voice grew louder with each word. I was punched drunk, tears and snot mixing in my face. “Ah! The biggest loser!"

“Lyle, let’s go.” My friend Alex said, tugging my arm. “You’re drunk and it’s getting late."

“No!” I snatched my arm away. “If you want to go, then go! The hell! I’m so tired of people like you! Go! Leave me! You’re all the same! All of you!” I screamed, slurring. “I hate this! I so fuckin’ hate this!” Fresh tears managed to escape my eyes.

Clutching the books that I launched onto the street earlier, he just clucked his tongue and shook his head. I wiped my face with my sleeve. Tears continued to spill while I struggled to remain in a vertical position. He fished out a handkerchief in his left pocket, and offered it to me.

“I don’t need that!” I said, pushing his hand away. “In fact, I don’t need you people! You people need me! I don’t fucking need you!” I screamed again, pointing a forefinger directly to his face.

“And when you couldn’t find any use of Lyle anymore, you then ditch me! Just like that, you people always walk out on me! Lyle the dumpee! Yeah, that’s what I am! Poor Lyle, people say! Fuck them! Fuck them all!"

I swayed, almost fell down. “Shitty sidewalk.” I muttered.

(to be concluded…)

Attack of the Coffee Monster, 2

“Grande Drip for here, please."
“Would there be anything else, Sir? Something to eat?” the male barista offered.

“No, thank you. Just coffee.”
“That’d be a hundred bucks, Sir.”

“Sir?” he continued. “Are you from the Ortigas area?”
“Yes, why?” I answered, a bit puzzled.

“Kaya pala hindi ka na pumupunta dun Sir, we wonder if you’ve already shifted na.” The female barista who was manning the other counter interjected.
Then I remembered them; they’re the baristas at the Megastrip branch.

“Oh. *soft laugh* Nag-transfer na pala kayo dito?”
“Borrowed lang Sir, kulang kasi dito sa Greenbelt. Balik-balik naman kayo dun.” he said smilingly.

“Oi, he’s our frequent costumer. Di ba Sir?” Another barista chimed in, speaking in a mock-angry tone.
“Hindi kaya, mas frequent kaya si Sir dun sa’min.” the second barista declared.

“Can I have my coffee now? Or pupunta na lang akong Starbucks?” I said. They laughed. I was serious.

Then the second barista produced me a humongous mug of boiling coffee, filled to the brim. Honestly, I was a bit flattered. I’ve never seen anyone being served with that huge mug before, only with those paper cups.

“Whoa! Laki naman,” I said embarrassed, it was more than what I’ve paid for.
“Thank you.” I smiled.
“Anything for our valued customers. Enjoy your coffee.”

I went outside and settled myself into one of their rather uncomfortable chairs. As I was reveling in my semi-celebrity-ness among the barista circle, white urbanite monkeys were yakking behind me.

“Akshally, it’s like this kase, you know, like, I made para this taxi, and when I made sakay, Oh my gosh, the driver was like, sooo mabaho.” Then a collective expression of disgust ensued, endless annoying “ewww-ing” filled the air.

I had this sudden overwhelming urge to make buhos my coffee over their like swollen heads, but I made pigil my sarili. Why? Bekuz, like you know, its so sayang naman this coffee.

Authors Note: I’ve just learned that they serve it in a mug upon request. But I didn’t make a request, in fact I was a bit cranky at that time since my blood-to-coffee ratio not stable yet. Still, I was grateful. Thanks Starbucks! Uh, I mean, Seattle’s Bucks. Oh, Seattle’s Best.

Attack of The Coffee Monster, 1

Shelling out a few hundred bucks of your hard-earned moolah for black powder and water is utterly insane. Venti, Macchiato, Frappuccino; daggummit!? To hell with these words! I roll my eyes on people who utter them. But that was then.

Little did I know; I was unaware that little by little these words slowly crept into my daily vocabulary.

I live for coffee; black, strong, no-nonsense coffee. Aside from helping millions of coffee farmers, it sets everything in harmony and maintains world peace (around me, at least). Guzzling tons and tons of this bitter juice has been my life for more than half a decade now. And I couldn’t be any happier (my concept of happiness, that is).

I am somewhat a peaceful human being, which to say that I am a pacifist. I try to keep things balanced, and am usually the conciliator between my combating friends. But, denying me of a caffeine fix and I’m off to a killing rampage. Did I mention coffee preserves peace and order? I mean just that.

Every morning when I wake up, the first thing that pops up into my mind is … well … coffee. Getting up, crawling to the dispenser, stirring black powder into the mug of boiling water, taking a sip and eventually scalding my tongue; the first set of chore I perform every waking moment.

And after killing all my taste buds, that’s the time I dart towards the bathroom to relieve my close-to-exploding bladder. Coffee comes before pee.

When people ask me why I’m hooked, I don’t reply with the usual “It keeps me awake” or “I like the taste” or (and this is true with some people) “It’s fashionable!” (and stress on the last statement)

In fact I don’t reply at all. Coffee is way beyond human comprehension; it’s the same as asking birds “Ya got feet, why fly?” Just because.

That coffee keeps you awake. True. But soda keeps you awake also, because of its sugar content. And apples too, which according to studies (and this is true), have a higher I-forgot-the-name-of-the-wakefulness-chemical content than coffee.

So why go for the bitter-tasting, sewage-water-looking, nerbiyos-inducing liquid? Not reason enough, unless you’re ignorant with the soda and apple scientific researches.

That the taste is pleasant. Are you kidding me!? It’s no less than drinking amplaya juice. Well, unless you find the idea of grinding amplaya, sieving the pulp, and downing slowly the green substance pleasant, then … But still, are you kidding me!?

That drinking coffee is fashionable. Fashionable my gluteus maximus! Need I say more?

(to be concluded…)

Discrimination: A Fairy Tale (P.2)

Facts: (based on my observation)

1. People would shudder when they hear the word “Mindanao”.

2. People would back off at once when they know you're from Mindanao. (and this is a good thing, in some cases.)

3. When people know you’re from Mindanao, the bold ones would always ask if you’re Muslim.

4. If you say you are, they’d think you’re dirty, backward and barbaric.

5. If you say you’re not, they’d think you’re not really from Mindanao.

6. When people know you’re from Mindanao, the bolder ones would always ask if you’re an Abu Sayaf.

7. If you say you are, they’d think you will kidnap them for ransom.

8. If you say you’re not, they’d think of you as a bogus Mindanaoan.

9. When people know you’re from Mindanao, they’d always inquire if “nagpuputukan ba dun?”

10. If you say Oo, they’d go, “Ows? Talaga? Di nga…"

11. If you say Hindi, they'd go, "Eh sabi sa news palaging blahblahblah..."

12. When people know you’re from Mindanao, they’d ask if “nagpapatayan ba mga tao dun?”

13. If you say Oo, they’d go, “Kaya pala nandito ka sa Manila…”

14. If you say Hindi, they’d go, “Hindi mo alam!? Oo, maraming patayan dun. Alam mo ba blah blah blah…"

15. When you say that Mindanao is in fact a very nice, beautiful, peaceful place, they'd just roll their eyes on you and sarcastically say "yeah right"; worse, they'd brand you as 'sinungaling' and stone you to death. (I just made up the last phrase.)


To set the records straight:

1. I’m from Mindanao (Bisayang taga-Mindanao, loud and proud!), and I’m not a Muslim.

2. I’ve lived almost all my life in Mindanao, and (emphasis here) spent 2 years in Marawi City (The Islamic City), a predominantly Muslim area. I didn’t get injured whatsoever, nor did I get killed (which makes no sense, I know).

3. Muslims are not Abu Sayaf. The latter is a terrorist group, while the former are the followers of Islam. Like Christians, followers of Christ.

4. Islam is a religion, which literally means “Peace (Salam).” Muslims are the followers of Islam, and cannot be labeled as one unless they (rigidly) adhere to the teachings of Islam.

5. This I have to point out: We always hear news (supposing that you read and watch the news) about “Muslim pinatay ang kapitbahay” or “Muslim nagnakaw.” But we’ve never heard of “Kristyano ni-rape ang sariling anak” or “Katoliko binugbog ang asawa” or “Mormon nasangkot sa multi-level networking scam” or “Pulis na INC member natutulog sa trabaho.” Nothing of those sort, wala, di ba? So why ine-emphasize ang pagiging Muslim nila?

6. Like what I’ve said, Abu Sayaf is a terrorist group; in fact some Muslim folks disown them.

7. We all have our individual differences. Never take it against another person if he has a different culture, belief or religion. Just like Christianity, they also have their share of the “odd-ones”. Lahat naman yata meron.

8. Kindly examine the newspapers, and try to find out the ratio of Muslims and Christians na gumagawa ng krimen araw-araw, and let’s see who’s more “barbaric” (if that’s an apt term to use.)

9. Wag tayo masyadong magmalinis. Kristyano ka nga, ipokrito(a) naman.

10. If you categorize Muslims as lesser people, then you my friend are lesser-er. You’re definitely misguided, not to mention narrow.

Discrimination: A Fairy Tale (P.1)

Are you familiar with the story about the three little pigs and the big bad wolf? Do you know why they were eaten by the big bad wolf? No, not because they built pathetic houses out of hay or something. They were eaten, because? Anyone?

Because instead of heading for home and preparing for the wolf’s arrival, they side-tripped to Starbucks, sat there for hours and got busy blowing their own horns off. Read on. (Real encounter with the real pigs.)

“When we went to like New Zealand last summer dude, I tried bungee-jumping!” one pig boasted. “I freaked out paah-re! Like, my whole life flashed before me! I thought I was gonna die dude, graa-beh!”

“Ugh! That’s nothing!” another pig dismissed, waving a paw. “You know naman that I you know, drive so bilis di ba? I used to be a drag racer kase paah-re. I even got into an aksidente once. Really! And I was hospitalized for one linggo!”

He then showed them a puny scar on this temple, sending the first pig flinching. “Marami pa yan, pare dude!"

“Wha-? It doesn’t even spell death!” the third pig remarked. “Me? I went to Mindanao last month paah-re! Mindanao, Imagine!?”

I laughed so hard, coffee almost shot right out of my left nostril.

(to be concluded...)

Tears of Summer

In my self-excavated pit, I seek refuge,
Consoling myself, this is for everyone’s good.
But even with solitude, still I feel agony;
Is there no other way of breaking free?

Tuck away with only my self as company,
Here, I thought, they would never reach me.
With memories, I fill my days of emptiness
Clinging unto them, tightly, my only solace.

I recall the memories of how it used to be;
Of people and me, and how we used to be happy;
How I looked forward to every waking day;
And how they abandoned me; the price I have to pay.

The sun shines brightly; the sea is so calm,
The waves slapping them, yet the shore keeps mum.
To the wind’s music, the palm trees are swaying.
A beautiful day, but why is my soul wailing?

Hovering high above me, the birds they fly
And tiny sand insects as they scuttle by
They seem peaceful, oblivious to what I’m feeling
But can they empathize? Can they feel my hurting?

I watch them; alone in my nook, I sit.
If I scream, will they be able to hear a bit?
I try to talk to them, I may be insane,
For the world never slows down to feel your pain.

Sitting cross-legged against the sand so white,
Wondering how long I could keep up the fight
I close my eyes, as the wind blows in my ear
Seemingly telling me, “Be strong, I’m here.”

They seem so merry. Ah! How dare them mock me!
While everything’s pretty, I’m gripped with melancholy.
Aggravating the pain; tears threaten to spill,
But I let them stream for I am alone, still.

Looking out into the distant horizon,
Peeking into the hole of my tiny dungeon.
Contemplating about the world I see.
Will there be any life ahead of me?

Wheeling off, slowly I am drifting away.
Like a ship, caught in a storm, gone astray.
In this oh so vast ocean of uncertainty;
Helplessly floating; drifting aimlessly.