kya kya pembarya

The other week I saw a familiar face on the street. She was on her phone, resting under the shade of a tree beside the sidewalk, having a break from begging. I was equally busy with my phone and didn’t prioritise saying hi to her. The next second she was out of my sight. A beautiful girl. I met her in one of our projects for Bunga Arts Link. She was young, curious, and friendly. I coloured her lips pink to match her satin rose dress. Her dress swayed as she lead and graced the dance circle. She always had a smile. Sometimes she talked. I remember the spark in her eyes when she talked about the pasayaw (dance celebration) they had for two nights and three days before her wedding day, just like in their traditions. She is one of the displaced Sama Badjau city dwellers. For alms they clamber jeepneys or buses as they sing or dance or play with their improvised tin can or pvc hand drums. I wonder if she saw me. Did she recognise me? —- Giving alms on the street is discouraged by DSWD. CSWD has dedicated workers to take care of the Badjau communities. The agency had operations and programs here and there but the Badjaus just kept on coming back on the streets, they said. I promised to keep in touch with the workers (see how I can help), I haven’t 😔 xxx

bad with goodbyes

The first time, you just disappeared. You got me worried for a while. The second time, we just parted ways in the train station, we didn’t even look back. Or did you? I didn’t. I couldn’t. The third, I just got off the car, still unable to look back. I just couldn’t have so much of you. I would love to hug you, tight and warm. Problem is the risk of getting carried away that I might not let go. So yeah, a cold goodbye with no physical or even eye contact is the best I could offer. I’m generally not good with goodbyes. What more with you? It’s hard to watch you go, leaving me figuring out when I get to see you again. You don’t know how much I try to control myself when I’m with you. I am always excited spending time with you. It’s obvious that I like you, you like me, but why are we both scared of dealing with feelings? We really match, equally insecure. I’m not complaining, for this is us. Hopefully, eventually we get to settle this, no rush, let’s take our time, we will both be fine.

This Glimpse of Hope

Alas! I am writing again. I know that this is not my gift, I am not that good at it but it is something I should be doing. I think everyone who knows how to write and finds writing relaxing should do it as often as once or twice a week. I have been setting aside a lot of things I enjoy doing for nothing. For the past months I just watched times and days pass by. I have been setting aside stuff I have been contemplating of doing. I was, I am overwhelmed with so much idle time.

Surprisingly, I didn’t regret how I didn’t accomplish a lot despite tons free time. I was not feeling anything. It was like I don’t care anymore. I was living by the moment, no routines, no rules, nothing; anything goes, just go with the flow till the flow stopped, had to stop. I got up tonight, I had to write. These idle days are numbered. I shall go cramming the plans and goals I did not set for it. Aaaaah. The feeling of being wanted again. Just keep it coming universe. 

Who do you call? Ghost busters!

When I feel like throwing my life away, you are that voice I need to hear to make me reconsider. I can sense your panic yet you sound too calm. How can you stay oh so grounded? How did you become what you are? You said you’re jealous how I can get away with things. You would try to talk me out from running away. To stop me was not your intention, it was to at least delay the idea to stow away. Selfish as I am, you buy me time, as sour as lime. When I ran out out of arguments, we pretend it has been resolved. Except for who do you run to when you feel like you’re at the edge? It was never me.

asan nga ba ako

Putang ina, ikaw na naman?! Yan sana ang ibabati ko sayo, sa hindi inaasahang pagbisita mo. Kailan na nga ba ang huli? Bakit pa rin ako nag-babakasakali? Traydor na panaginipi ito oo! Sa malay ko pinabayaan ko na ang mabaon ka sa limot. Humawak ka sa aking kamay, kumapit ako, nag-alinlangan  at bumitaw. Hindi naman kita iniwan, Nagpatuoy tayo. At yun na ang katapusan, ng panaginip Sabi nga nila, kabaligtaran raw ng realidad ang mga pangyayari sa panaginip.

Alam naman natin kung asan ang isa’t isa. Magkikita naman tayo kung gugustuhin, pero huwag na tayo mag-abala, mukha naman tayo parehong masaya ^_^

Choreographed

How old are you? I’m 28, why? Wow, so young! -Not- Why, what were you doing when you were my age? Married, already got a child. At what age did you get married? Twenty-two. Wooooow! You must be really madly in love! 22? What was I doing? -bumming by the beach, eating sand- It was actually arranged. You did not pack your bags and ran away? That’s cool by the way. You’re a good learner, you were able to adapt and like and fall for him eventually.

-At 21, she learned she was promised to someone. A year after, a wedding happened- It was awkward at first, but he was so patient. I had my conditions. What else could I do, so we tried. My fear was him turning out to be a womanizer, money is like a special pass to maintain mistresses on the sides. But he’s not that good-looking (laughs) so there can never be other woman. But it turned out well I suppose.

Yeah, my colleagues would be surprised when they see my husband and I tell out it was arranged marriage, then we are from different races and different religions.

WHAT WERE YOUR PARENTS THINKING? You? Would you consider arranged marriage? It’s convenient. At least I don’t need to go down to the sea to fish. I don’t have to wait for a catch and assess if it’s safe or poisonous; if I like to keep this fish or maybe let it go because it’s too cute haha. -and with global warming and over fishing, I think I should join the vegetarians once again-

Tagalog

Maaga kang gumigising. May baong ngiti, latak ng nakaraang gabing panaginip. Tuwing umaga, may bago kang pag-asa, na may kahit isa man lang na maka-alala. May maka-alalang pangitiin ka, kumustahin ka; kapara ng pagpapangiting ginawa mo para sa iba, para sa kanila. 

Wala ka namang hinananakit. Hindi man ito ang katuparan ng iyong pangarap. May karapatan rin namang lumigaya ang mga bigo. Ikaw ang may hawak ng susi sa sarili mong kaligayahan ika nga nila. Sa umaga, ngumingiti ka, noon, ito’y sapat na para mapangiti siya. Ngingiti ka pa rin, at ito’y sasarilinin. Saan ka nagkulang? O talagang para sa kanila, ika’y hindi naging sapat lamang. Tutuloy ka lamang. Paminsan-minsan magbabakasali, susubukin ang tubig baka kalmado at swertihin. Hindi ka sumusuko. Para saan at ngayon ka pa susuko? Paninindigan mo kung ano man ang nangyari. Pasasaan ba at aagos rin ang ligaya.

My Fault Is Yours

Please don’t love me, you said. As you know that telling me not to do one thing is an assurance of me doing otherwise

I thought you were not aware that I love you. But then we are good playmates especially in make-believes.

Whatever satisfaction it delivers, I wish you all the pleasure from the angels and devils. If you don’t dare come back, stay away, astray. I would eventually, probably find a way. We are not memories worth keeping. We can’t just be memories. If ever we find the things best stay hidden, let’s bury it back together

Of Marshmallow Test

I would fail that test. I am stubborn. I am impatient. tell me not to do one thing, consider it done the next minute. I am mostly impatient but I do get highs with waiting games. 

Games? You said games? I must win if it’s not lame. Lame means something with me having a low probability of winning. Test? This is about a test? The Marshmallow Test was an experiment where experimenters locked in a child alone in a nursery room with one marshmallow, given an instruction that if they won’t eat it for the next 15 minutes, they would have get double treats. Experimenters stalked these kids as they grew and found a trend that those who waited scored higher grades, had more money thus successful. Something great to those who wait huh? So what if I would want the treat the moment it was presented to me, seize the moment eh? Is being contented with one not a good thing? Should I try to discipline myself and struggle to have more? And in between that 15 minutes of waiting, the unbearable doubts of someone keeping his/her promise would make me bounce around with frustrations. The power of delayed gratification is not that powerful to me sorry. Live now, in this instant. There are things I have been waiting for, I waited so long. Life has different marshmallows. There are times I would be happy not having any, times I would hoard just for fun. I have been fighting to convince myself that money does not equate to success. But who does not love money? And why where was your heart when you locked those toddler alone in a room? What if they got choked with the marshmallow?

coping strategies

Say “no” to things that don’t deserve a compartment. Clearing off some space All that while That spot  which thought to be locked

There was no key Just push a bit Then pull harder

A breeze there is

Close-open, close-open

Screech screech

Hello old friend

Welcome back!

Of New Lives

It’s me. I just don’t make a big fuss of stuff, of myself, of the different versions of myself. How many times have I changed? How many times did I end something and start something else? It’s me, I didn’t give a damn.

Milestones. Mile after mile, where were the stones? To celebrate late is not  a bad idea. I just need to remember where the stones were.

After high school, I distant myself from the town I spent 15 years of my life. A new life, rediscover yourself, a new self. There were four of us from my high school who went to UPD. I bumped into them in campus maybe twice or thrice a year during my college years. 

Freshman year, I spent three hours (most of the time more) traveling to and fro UPD. Culture shock was expected, it’s where naked men run yearly for tradition and statement. Everyone was smart, talented, and interesting. Overwhelming, not much, my cup was empty--there to be filled and spilled. 

Second year, I made my way to get a slot for in-campus dormitory. Another four years, good years of filling, emptying, and spilling. Then there came the sunflowers and sablays. Cups were filled--to spill, to fill up some more, to share it or keep it safe and stagnant was the thing to decipher. 

I wanted (and still want) to be a lot of things.

A new life, not--I wouldn’t let go. 

My cup is yours. I wouldn’t bring it somewhere else.

I opted to stay in UP, in any form I could.

I stayed in UP, in Marine Science Institute. I thought I wanted to be a Marine Scientist with Sports Science degree. I just needed to prove myself wrong. It was fun, fulfilling and all, it’s just that I could be better somewhere else.

I left UP, but not the people.

I went to Shanghai for a short stint as a cultural performing artist. It was full of fun, it was fulfilling and all but it had to end. I shook my cup, it’s still filled.

For a time I just floated around till I found myself flying to the paradise island of El Nido. It was very fulfilling and fun; it was easy yet uncomfortable. I decided to fly back to the city. I floated around again then I found myself practicing what I was trained for. I finally joined the Fitness Industry. It was not as fun and fulfilling but it had (still has) the promise of growth in terms of career and other matured stuff for all the nice title and comfort. I had to think more than twice when the opportunity to go back to cultural performing arts overseas was offered. Since I am from the working class, being away from the industry (other than zero income) was so impractical. But traveling and being with the people I, like doing something we really love is worth the delay of climbing the corporate ladder. So I flew again, to Europe. We really had fun and fulfillment, had the best experienced of our lives but then it had to end.

I came back, barely. 

With hangover, I grabbed the first opportunity to leave again.

I found myself flying to Singapore. I did not have much time to think it over, the idea of living in a foreign land masked all of the should have planned and thought things carefully before deciding. I messed up, a bit that people barely noticed it. But I survived. I am still here. More introverted, more confused, more worried, but MORE. I should be packing my things now for I am shifting house for the 6th time (should be the last) in 2 years in Singapore. I feel like it’s a new beginning to rediscover myself. I need to be here while I am here. I can’t just leave again. 

For It’s Alive Again

here we go again the tendency to throw everything away

the need to escape

the thought of I should better be doing something else the thought I would be good for that, not this I opt to be happy usually, seldom nowadays you try to stay you plan, set up again, be thrilled, and be scared again have thought of it a thousand times

imagined, played, and re-played it on my mind

-unfinished >pressed publish

While It Is September

It’s September when one fancies to wake up at its ends. It must be the wind, or how the rain pours. As when it rains, it pours, lullaby, sleep, which is for the weak. But the song demands for a waking up. Alas! Hello failures! Hello over-achieving children of Gods. Suddenly, I am reminded of the things I am jealous and insecure of. I am aware again of the disappointments I have been brushing off, and try not to remember. But no, you cannot just forget. You may escape for a while but the chase does not stop. In the train, going home I whispered to myself I’m ok a thousand times. And I was. I would love to be positive. Sooner, September you’d be over and I can just laugh off how you started with stress and sadness. For now, waking hours would be focused on piecing out my own puzzle and decipher what and how I really should be. I won’t put up a fight, I want more of a peace. I can wait for you to end and while you are here, let me entertain you, want some tea? coffee? other than me?

of deaths

Earlier this week, I have learned the “dark side” of happiness of the happiest people on Earth--they think of death five times a day, every day. Since I am such a fan of happiness and the country Bhutan, I tried to practice thinking of death at least once a day. Think of death. Terrifying. Yes, death scares me. Such practice, I know, is meant to be guided not as what I did, blindly jumping into a practice I am not so familiar of. To soften it out, I settled to thinking of things related to death--dead bug, dead hair, dead sea, death race, death threat, death row, death toll, war, famine and other calamities. So so much deaths came into my attention. Death in migration.

People in search for better lives risk lives, worst lose it. Foreigners in South Africa are threatened with xenophobia. Many hopeful African migrants crammed in unsafe water vessels gamble (and lose) their lives to reach Europe. A Filipina victim of human trafficking was sentenced to firing squad for alleged drug mule case. Here I am, a migrant, somewhat risked my life, now, I am uncertain of what I really want to do, where to go, maybe lost, for now, lost in migration, I was never gifted with navigation.

Yours is the Earth...

Not, earth owns us. In a minute or less a shake from it can turn castles built over years into rubble and ashes. Its waters got the power to claim lands and everything on it. It is told, earth does not need us. We are merely dispensable part of it, and while we are here, might as well be something useful. It does not need to be something grand. Marie Curie, Shakespeare, Mother Theresa, Mandela surely got lovely life stories but  small acts of kindness is still an act and a kind of kindness however minuscule it would help one get by. Dead end, a false end When there is no turning back however you badly want and need it, turn on spot, you still get to turn (hehe), give yourself a pat in the back, punch and kick the wall if it makes you feel good, climb over after when you get exhausted and hurt. The thing(s) on the other side good or bad or both stays unknown till you conquer what blocks.

to break the fast

I eat rejection for breakfast, I am used to it but still, there’s not much my guts can accommodate. I still can’t get a good deal on handling being rejected. I am blessed but I needed to work hard to get things I deserve, yes, I would like to be one of the privileged ones. Often, I wish I was born rich or talented, intelligent, funny or pleasing enough to expedite my way to reaching my dreams. My vague dreams which fall off one by one, one after the other, worse at the same time. I wanted to be a lot of things, unfortunately my seemingly limitless limitations betray my illusions. I wish I could stop being pessimist. I should skip squeezing in drama into my life (as if denial does me better). Breathe, breathe. Let it pass, hopefully next time I will pass

connection mommy!

I am kinda offended when I am often mistaken for a college student. It does not flatter me if that’s the intention. But it might be the image I project subconsciously. I seldom comb my hair and my face is accessorized by pimples and acne as if I just hit the glamorous puberty.  It might be the way I dress up or the lack of it. I usually go out with my pretend to be homeless get up or I just got up from bed look or I thought the mall is my living room outfit of the day.

Yesterday, I can’t figure out which part of my low low profile put a glimmer of a concealed sugar mummy aura. my dance teacher, frustrated with my poor ability to connect in a partner dance classified me as “mommey!”. 

When people ask what I do in life, I sometimes kid that I am a homemaker with six children and expecting one on the way. With age, I always add 10 years and see their eyes sparkle with fascination flatters me that I look like 10 years younger which is my true age. I might be having so much fun that I forgot how I really age up and legit to do mature stuff. I am often stereotyped as the expat’s girlfriend/wife when I never had a boyfriend to start from. I got nothing against stereotyping, it makes things easier, it’s convenient. I stereotype so I get stereotyped as well, fair enough. Now I look like a mother, holy, holy mother! Though I see that as a compliment because mothers are great, it’s a privilege to be one. This does not bother me at all that’s why I’m writing about it...

 But yeah, I just came into conclusion that it’s just my teacher terming in cool Latin attitude since he does not know my name and we are into Latin dancing. Now I’m bothered if I should use papi or puppy to balance off the Latina feels haha. Oh well, what I should really be bothered about is my body resisting to be lead and connect when dancing. I should learn to put patience and anticipation into my dance system, however stubborn I am demanding for a nice choreography and know everything, see what’s coming so I can prepare with flying rainbow colors with butterflies and unicorns.

i thought i could never let you go

i've lost you, though i never had you

i have resolved my illusion.

you were a good help, you perfectly did your part, you did nothing.

my inability to connect with most people made me held onto my make believe relationship we could have had, that there would come a day you would need me, i would be your hero, you used to be there when i needed you, actually even when i don't, maybe we used up all the time i could get from you for this lifetime.

i tried, i saw you tried, or maybe i imagined we tried but never mind, i'm done with us. i'm letting you and myself go. it's sad that you will never be the one for me, i was totally the one for you though you always thought of me to be someone else. i guess us apart, as we always have been, is the best we could be. but oh actually, the distance did no help, it made me dream for us more and more. luckily i made it anyway, at least i have finally freed myself. there was this morning or maybe an afternoon nap when i woke up and decided it's really over. you are out, i knew that long time ago, i accepted it but not the defeat. with you i can't be the loser. apparently i am. finally i surrender. shame that i am not your life's hero, the stories i made up in my mind would never make it to reality, but never mind, i have loads i could work on. now that we are finally done, rather i am finally done with you, i can channel my energy to other things that matter and need more of my attention. now i can let myself go, grow and glow