Independence

I’m 21 and I want this so bad. But I can’t. Not yet. 

It takes time. It takes money. And in all honesty, establishing independence in the Philippines is one of the hardest things to do. Even if I already have a decent paying job, living on my own is still not a practical choice because of financial constraints and cost of living.

I’ve been thinking about it for quite a while now. But really, it’s not something that’s just a blink away. It’s not something that I could just go ahead and do, right here, right now. You don’t know how many times I wanted to just pack my things and go. But don’t get me wrong, I love my parents and I love my family. It’s just that, if I was on my own, there’s a lot of misunderstandings at home that would certainly not have taken place. 

I guess people out there who have already set out their feet on the world would just smile at me and say “Don’t rush things, you’ll get there”. Well, the younger ones have always been the one rushing so I guess it’s completely natural. 

Maybe the reason why I want this so much is because all along I wanted to prove something not to anybody else, but to myself. I wanted to tell the whole world, that hey, I maybe young and fragile, but I am strong and I am independent. And I can conquer life with feet rooted on the ground and head held high. 

And I would let the whole world know, just not now, not yet.

But I will get there. Mark my word. Just wait. 

Stories

No story sits by itself. No story stands alone. Every story that every people have are connected to each other. The connection are sometimes so bold for you to miss, sometimes it’s too vague for you to recognize. The meeting points could be certain corners of destiny, intersections of fate or just good old life making a pass through on someone else’s avenue.

All of our stories merge as one. Sometimes it serves as patches of cloth stitched into a quilt. Sometimes it’s like layer after layer of stones in a river bed. Our stories, when they meet at one point, may be as brief as a lightning strike but with a lingering effect or it may be as long as a lifetime, that after you lose the other part of the story you have come to know for so long, you start to feel empty, you start to feel like nothing could ever make sense again, you start to feel that without the other person’s story, your own story…your own existence, bear no significance anymore.

Stories are the building blocks of life. It starts with you crying as you get your first sight of the world. Then to you wanting toys and candy. Then to you wanting to have as many friends as possible. Then to you wanting to love and be loved back. Then to you settling down and raising your own family. Then to you letting go of your own kids. Then to you growing old with the man/woman you said “I do” to many years ago. Then to you leaving this world and any form of mortality you have grown accustomed to. We are all familiar with this cycle. We all know this by heart. We all go through it as we live and breathe day in and day out.

Stories have a lot of names. Sometimes it’s called decisions, sometimes it’s called choices, and other times, it’s history, experience or simply actions. It’s intertwined by fate, destiny, life and emotions. But what we always have to remember is with every story, there is no random act. Every action done coincides with another. When one piece moves, everything moves.

There are two sides to every story. Sometimes there’s three, sometimes there’s four, sometimes there’s more. Your story is not for you to keep. It’s not for you to weave alone. It’s for you to tell, for you to share, so that when everything finally comes to its conclusion, each piece have already fallen into place and there are no lose ends.

Black and White

This is my own shot (obviously) of a black and white photo on a museum in Baler. And whenever I look at it, actually whenever I see a crisp black and white photo, I feel something stirring in me. I’m not quite sure if it’s gravity or curiosity or a little bit of both that seems to be drawing me near to those kind of images.

And the reason behind that is somewhere in between me knowing and me innocently looking. Do you get it? Guess it’s a little confusing huh.

Those two colors don’t mean a thing when they stand apart. But when they combine to form images, they convey a very intimate, sincere, honest feeling that just strikes me through the heart. It’s like without any other color on it, you learn to look at the details of every little thing. You suddenly see the noticeable facts that are usually overpowered by color. You suddenly get that impact of bare yet pure transparency. 

Everything is as it is. You see where the light passes through. You see where darkness lies. You see the perfect lines, perfect angles. You see the crudely caught aspects, the barely there phases. 

Without any other color, you see facts first. And emotions just come in after you have seen the entire photo. That way, reality sets in quick. That way, your emotions that usually come along with the colors you see, don’t outwit your rational thinking.

That way you appreciate the noble intention of the photographer to let you see every bit of honesty and clarity that conspired at that moment.

PAROKYA >> Press PLAY to Start

“Di ba’t sinabi mo sa’kin dati na mahirap kumain ng tsokolateng natunaw at parang wala nang korte, kadiri ng kainin, mukha ng tae…”

Alas singko ng umaga. Nasa sleeping lounge ako ng call center na pinapasukan ko. Masakit ang ulo. Pagod ang utak. Kaya sinaksak ang headset sa cellphone kong paru-paro at nakinig na lang kay Chito.

“Some people love shoes of certain kinds. Some people love afternoons or the way the moon shines. And they have their own reasons to feel the way they do. That’s why I ask myself – what it is with you? …”

Binati na ng sinag ng araw ang mata kong puyat. Lakad palabas ng building, sabay habol sakin ng aking ka-opisina at sinabing “Hoy! Naka-earphones ka pa! Manakaw yang cellphone mong paru-paro!” Tawa lang ako sabay balik sa kanta ni Chito. 

“Magdamag naggigitara ang bagal ng gabi. Ang daming iniisip ngunit wala namang masabi. Nagsawa ka na ba? Subukan mong tumawa. Tigilan ang pag-iisip ipagpatuloy ang pananaginip…”

Patawid ako ng kalsada sabay busina ng taxi na parating na pala. Tingin lang ako sabay hawi ng buhok at dukot sa bulsa ng mentos. Bigla ko naisip, kung namatay kaya ako kanina dahil sa pagkasagasa, may tao kayang matutuwa? Dahil di ko rin naman masagot sarili kong tanong, bumalik na lang ako sa mga kanta si Chito.

“Lumayo ka na sa akin, wag mo kong kausapin. Parang awa mo na, wag kang magpapaakit sa akin. Ayoko lang masaktan ka, malakas ako mambola…”

Sakay ako ng jeep. Nagising si kuyang nakaupo sa tapat ko at pagkakita sakin, sabay ngumiti ng pagkatamis tamis. Biglang taas naman ang kilay ko at umirap lang ako. Nagpaabot ng bayad sa babaeng katabi ko at bumalik sa pakikinig kay Chito.

“Please don’t worry ’bout how things might turn out. Let go, let everything go. Go run…”

Baba ng jeep. Sabay bulong sa sariling “Shit… Bakasyon ba ngayon? Bakit isaw ang pila sa terminal na ‘to?” Napa-buntong hininga na lang ako tapos hinanap ang dulo ng mahabang linya ng mga tao. Naghintay katulad ng iba at inaliw na lang ang sarili sa mga kanta ng parokya. 

“Sa inyo ko natutunan ang lahat nang kalokohan at kasalanan niyo kung ba’t ako nag ka ganito. Araw araw mag kasama, para ko kayong pamilya. Isang pamilya na sira ang mga ulo…”

Nakaupo na sa bus. Kinuha ang cellphone at tinext ang boyfriend ko para di mag-alala kung nasan na ko. Tapos biglang napatingin sa isang kabataang mas makapal pa sa braso ang suot na pulseras at pinipilit pagkasyahin ang skateboard sa kanyang bag. Natawa na lang ako tapos nakinig na uli kay Chito. 

“Mabuti pa sa lotto…May pag-asang manalo…Di tulad sayo..imposible…Prinsesa ka..ako’y dukha…Sa TV lang naman kasi may mangyayari…”

May babaeng tumabi sakin na may kasamang lalake. Nagpaalam sa isa’t isa, sabay kiss. Tapos nang paalis na si lalake biglang pinigil ni babae tapos kiss uli. Tapos isa pa. Tapos isa pa. At isa pa. Napayuko na lang ako sabay baling ng atensyon sa parokya. 

“Nasan na tayo? Hindi ba tayo nawawala? Tabi mo muna yung auto. Parang gusto ko nang bumaba. Ayoko sanang huminto ngunit masyado nang malayo..”

Umalis na ang bus sa terminal. Lumapit si manong konduktor at nagtanong ng “Miss, san ka?” Binigay ko ang destinasyon ko sabay balik sa kanta ng parokya. 

“Red pants I love you…Red pants I love you. You fit in your slippers and not so good to look at…”

Saktong hinto lang ang bus sa pagpula ng ilaw ng stoplight. May katabi kaming jeep at napansin kong bumaba ang isang babae. Di ko maalis ang tingin ko sa pantalon niyang kulay pula. Nangingiti sa sarili at napabulong ng “Pagkakataon nga naman, ang galing talaga tyumempo ng parokya”.

“Sino pa bang hinihintay? Ba’t di pa tayo sumakay? Excited na’kong umalis, sige na please, konting bilis. Saan ba tayo pupunta? Kahit saan, bahala na…”

Palapit na uli si manong konduktor at di nagtagal narinig ko na ang inaabangan kong banat “Miss, bayad lang po”. Inabot ko na ang pamasahe ko tsaka humanap ng komportableng pwesto. Usog dito, baling ng konti dun. Dinantay ang ulo sa bintana at itinulog ang nalalabing oras ng byahe ko. 

Oo nga pala, Salamat Chito. Tapos na ang araw na ‘to, bukas uli.  

Scenes and Thoughts

Some of the things I’ve seen and been thinking about lately.

It’s becoming a habit of mine to go to the restroom at the ground floor before going up to 9th for work. And last week while I was there, I heard sobs coming from a cubicle. It intrigued me to the point that I really listened to it. And what immediately hit me is the feeling that this girl is not crying for something that’s to be taken lightly. You can hear the heavy burden she has within her slipping out with every sob. That’s when I started thinking that girls don’t usually cry alone. They’re very open with what they feel and usually if they’ll cry, they’ll have their best friend with them giving comfort and assurance that things will be okay. But this, this is something different. Whatever it is that’s causing those tears to fall is something that she has to bear alone. Something so painful and yet she can let no one know.

And just this morning, while the jeepney that I happened to be on stopped at the old rail road near Blumentritt’s LRT station to wait for passengers, I noticed a man. A man who’s probably in his early 50’s holding a cup of coffee in one hand and staring blankly into space. As I looked closer, I saw that tears are actually flowing down his cheeks continuously. He’s not sobbing. His breathing is not as heavy as it’s supposed to be when someone’s crying. It’s like he’s not even aware of his own tears. That’s when I started asking myself, is this how a man deals with life’s heavy blows? Keeping it all inside until at one point their heart gives in and tears flow out without them noticing? It’s like their soul inside is already shattered but then it’s enclosed by this manly physique that’s supposed to be as sturdy as a rock and the only evidence you see are the tears falling down quietly.

After thinking about these two incidents, I turned to myself. What have I been crying about lately? I cried at one point two weeks ago ’cause I couldn’t take the pressure from work anymore. And then I’ve been trying my best not to cry when thinking about all the things that’s going on around me that people don’t want me to know. It goes with the thinking that if they tell me, I’ll just get angry. But then again, it just hurts more when I find out about those things myself. And when it happens over and over again and I know deep inside that it’s just going to continue to happen despite my best efforts of changing how I react and how I handle things, it comes to a point when I had to ask myself, am I not worthy of honesty? Am I that bad of a person to not be deserving of just simple, untainted honesty?

Then I started thinking that probably the reasons why I’m crying would not even come close to the gravity of reason behind the tears of the first two people that I’ve just mentioned. That most likely what I’m going through is just a small fraction of what they have to bear. But along with that thought came the realization that it doesn’t really matter what your reason is for crying. The fact that tears are falling down from someone’s eyes means at that moment, a person have let all the walls around his/her heart fall down, at that instance a person chose to lay down everything that makes him/her strong and just accept the fact that everybody can’t stand tall all the time. That at one point, you would have to kneel down and accept that along with your mortality comes a weakness no one can escape from and that weakness is the humanity in you.

Most people say “no good ever comes out of crying”. They’re wrong. Because crying is not a sign of weakness and never will it be a sign of giving up. For as each drop of pain that tore up who you are comes out through your tears, your soul slowly heals itself, mends up all the wounds left by life’s harsh realities and soon after the last tear falls, you’ll know for yourself, you’re stronger than ever before.

Just please…

Woke up at 1 am and with one glimpse at something, all sleepiness went on ahead of me. 

Sighs.

That’s all I could say and do. 

Sometimes, it makes me wonder if I’m the one causing trouble for me or it just so happened that these coincidences are just really meant for me.

What’s going on…… I’m at my wit’s end.

More and more things are being hidden from me. Why?

All this is starting to feed a heavy type of frustration inside my chest.

I’m not naive. 

Stop the hiding. Stop the secrets.

Just please….

No more sidelines. No more stopovers. No more interruptions. 

No more situations like these.

I just want a straight road ahead. 

Just please….

Please…..

CHOICES and FACTS

Now that you’re at the beginning.

It’s your choice to read it or not. It’s your choice to feel sorry for me or not. It’s your choice to think I’m strong enough or not.

I’ve made my choices.

You have to make yours.

I chose to stay. Having said that, I already accepted the fact that this sinking feeling I have is here to stay as well. Inside my heart. Bearing weight on my soul. Simply because it has nowhere else to go.

I chose to be honest. Having said that, I already accepted the fact that what I have is little, what I can offer is limited and what I can give isn’t that much. And of course, I know that no sane person will settle for something that’s little, limited or not that much.

I chose to let people choose. Having said that, I already accepted the fact that I’m against the odds. That whether or not I throw the dice, I’d lose. That even if I get my hopes up, the height won’t save my heart from crashing on the floor.

I chose to write about today. Having said that, I already accepted the fact that my feelings would be laid out bare. But I got nothing more to lose, nothing more to hide. Every bit of my frustration is out in the open.

Now that you’re at the end.

It was your choice to read it, might that be a push of curiosity or a tickle of interest. It was your choice to feel sorry for me, might that be true or not. It was your choice to think I’m strong enough, might that be true or not.

I’ve made my choices.

You have made yours.

Where my faith was built

Hearken thy faith as your feet walks slower

Stop and reflect as time runs faster

Stay true as odds dare thy will

Gather courage before your hand lets go of what is real

 

Enter her chambers for your diminished hope to be redeemed

Cling to your conviction no matter how harsh this world may seem

Open your mind, for your soul to breathe

Open your heart, for your will to be freed

 

Alleviate your anxiety; lay down your worries

For within her walls, your thoughts will be rid of fallacies

Don’t indulge yourself with confusion and things untold

For through her windows, the quilt of your existence will unfold

 

Running would be of no need; escaping would be of no good

For as you walk in her floors, truth will be your interlude

The journey in life may be hard, painful and long

But for as long as her pillars stand, your courage will be strong

 

Temptations may have played with your desires and lead you to your mistakes

But through her altar, you’re going to make more of yourself than anyone can break

As you have filled yourself with Christ’s grace through her simple structure

May you be a way for others to see through their fragile fixture

Wrote this poem back in 2009. It’s about our parish church that in all honesty is very close to my heart. And now that its construction is almost done, you can just see how much effort and time was put into building it from the ground up. I remember the several times my parents donated money and begged our priest to just quote it as anonymous. I’m looking forward to one day giving a copy of this poem to our parish priest, Father June Roxas, to let him know that all of his hard work is greatly appreciated. And just to share, Father June never referred to it as a “church”, he always calls it the “heart of the people”. Which to me, is a remarkable way of seeing things.

Before I wanted to get married in Caleruega, now my heart is set on our church. 🙂

For those who took the time to read, thank you! And yeah, I took the photos above earlier today, a little after 6 am using my phone. Wasn’t able to bring my cam with me. But still, I hope you can see the beauty that I see.

Keep your mouth shut

Why is it that every time facts come crashing at my front door or fragments of truth come slapping me in the face and I talk about it, it becomes my fault that I even gained knowledge of them? It’s already me that’s hurting and it’s still my mistake?

Lesson: Whatever you see, whatever you hear, whatever you know, whatever you feel, don’t talk about it.

Why is it that when I let my thoughts be heard, people already draws up an image of me based on what I said? My opinions do not make up the entirety of who I am and yet it’s enough to make or break my personality?

Lesson: Whatever people think, whatever people say, whatever people do, don’t talk about it.

Why is it that when life throws bricks at me and I tell others about it, they call it ranting? Can’t it be that I just wanted to feel a little lighter inside that’s why I talked about it? And yet all I got were judgements?

Lesson: Whatever shit life throws at you, whatever hell you’re going through, don’t talk about it.

Of course there will be people in your life who will be there to listen to you no matter what. But for the others, don’t worry, it will always come to a point when they would want to understand, and when that time comes, you can talk without fear of being judged or misunderstood. When that time comes…you’ll know that they’re ready to listen.