Monday Storm

The storm is hitting Manila right this afternoon. It's freezing in and out of the building. Coffee and smoking are very essential this minute and I feel sorry for not wearing layers of clothes today. If only I have these items in violent pink and electric purple, (I might look like a giant snowman) but still, I am tempted to wear earmuffs, mittens, bonnet, snow boots and scarf. My teeth are chattering and my hands are turning white. I feel like my coffee is turning into ice.

Speaking of ice, I haven't seen Ice Age 3 yet and everybody in this office were talking about it. I feel that there's nothing spectacular and it's a waste of 200 pesos. The only thing that I like on that movie is the saber-toothed squirrel whose madly obsessed with an acorn and he was an extra. For years I thought that this character doesn't have a name. A friend (Penguin), gave me a a stuffed-saber-toothed squirrel from Ice Age for christmas and I decided to call him Heffner and since everybody likes him and that he is absolutely popular because I'm bringing him to every travel I went to, my brother stole him one night and named him Ricky. My brother just turned 25, how cute and immature of him at the same time. Anyway, that thing has a name as I googled my way through Wikipedia and the character's name is Scrat. I'm sorry Scrat but to me I will still call my stuffed-scrat Heffner aka Ricky.

Anyway, this movie is bland compared to the cartoons I've watched that really pinched a heart. My all time favorite is Monters Inc. and I swear that I have seen this for more than 20 times. This is a kind of movie to watch when you're sick in bed while eating noodles and the raindrops continously sliding down your window pane.

Remember this?

What is the sound of a heart breaking?

It is the sound of someone curled up in a tiny ball crying softly in the night, the sound of the first unwanted teardrop touching your skin, it's the sound of a telephone that doesn't ring, the sound of regret pounding inside your brain with every heartbeat, it's the whispers of the toy animals s/he gave you.

It's the shuffling of feet walking away from you, the sound of your soul shattering into a million pieces at recognizing the word "goodbye," it’s the soundtrack of memories torturing you, it's the sound of feeble hands trying to push back the obstinate hands of time, it's the sound of a cherub's dying breath, the sound of all those years disappearing in the vortex of Cupid's kitchen sink, it's the unrelenting plaintive baby meows of an abandoned kitten outside an ignoring door.

It's the sound of the rain that doesn't ever stop, the sound of all the doors shutting and closing in your face at the same time, of raging, howling storms in the night when there's no one there to hold you, the sound of your voice as it screams back at you, the echo of "I love yous" burning holes in you, the sound your heart makes as it tells you to lie still because nothing you will ever do will matter without love.

The sound of the waves of the polluted beach you went to as it moves from the shore and crashes inside your mind, of the sniffles that make up your pathetic "SOS-to-the-world," the cracking of the brittle black-red petals from the sidewalk vendor roses s/he gave, the sound of the music s/he used to make going to your gut.

The sound of things in your room being thrown around and landing on the floor, the caress of kitchen knives on skin, the sound your throat makes as you swallow your saltiest tear.

It's the sound of your own voice calling out to someone who isn't there, of dying birds getting splattered on a city pavement, of terms of endearment used a hundred times a day struggling to crawl into a vacuum of forgetfulness, it's the sound of your own sobs keeping you company, it's the cold, uncaring stillness of the air you share your space with.

Destruction isn't always as noisy as bombs exploding. Sometimes the ultimate catastrophes are as quiet as a feather falling on the floor of a Zen monastery. No one else can really hear your heart breaking except you.

- Karen Kunawicz

What I Have Learned Last Year

I have learned that:

• Some highlights in your life are not always good. In your life span, there is something good or terrible thing that will happened to you and you will remember every detail of it. Words are hard to find by the time you try to express it whether in verbal or in writing and it will only lead to a series of incomplete sentences.
• I can quit my job but I can never quit on love.
• People are shitty and they can judge you unfairly.
• I feel more human when I refuse to speak and think ill of others.
  

• On a relationship, it is important that she understands with me and I understand with her.
• I don’t always have to fill in the silence. I don’t always have to have to.
• The grandest of house was the one that was built by two people in love.
• Lying is the last resort to prevent series of disappointments.
• Loved ones you have lost contact with maybe for some time or for eternity will haunt you in your dreams and/or back to reality.
• Bogus stories on frightening hour and lonesome time can be really amusing.
• Suffocating ideas are scary and can make you really crazy.
• People are more interested about Manny Pacquiao’s victory than Pride March.
• Writing is a therapy.
• Writing is easier than talking.
• Scents lingers. Not only in the sense of occupying space or the room but it reminded you of things/someone.
• Strangers can sometimes give you comfort.
• That this little girl can now make the matches spark.
• I am the only member of the family that was not included at the “exchange gift”.
• I am the only girl member of the family who didn’t receive a swarovski bracelet.
• Neither one of my partner’s family likes me.
• Unplanned travel is costly.
• Pink and blue walls reminded me of MMDA’s Metro Gwapo campaigns.

Global Forum on Migration

I dedicate this photo to Kanlungan Center Foundation Inc.
This photo of me was taken by Atty. Germanine Trittle Leonin using Nokia 5310 at Harbor Square, Manila, Philippines while we were attending the "Feminization of Migration" forum by CATW-AP last 24th of October 2008.

NO TO COMMERCIALIZATION OF MARRIAGE!
WOMEN ARE NOT COMMODITIES!

Ilocanos

I had an aversion for Ilocanos. I can say it in different words synonymously. I can say I dislike them, abhor, despise, detest or dread them because, again, I loathed them. How can I hate them this much? Probably because I feel that I was brutally surrounded by Ilocanos who played a major role in my life.

I was brought up by my grandfather who was in fact a pure blooded Ilocano. He was tall, dark and really strong. His voice was deep and his words were unbreakable. He was the top-notcher for the board exams in his batch and served as a US Navy for many years. He was conservative, sobrang kuripot and his kastigo for a child was ruthless. Growing up with him made me feel different kind of injustices.

I remember his punishments were traumatizing and his words were brutal. There were a series of spanking and he always locked me alone inside the room until it gets dark, which in a later years made me become claustrophobic.

In November 1989, my grandparents and I visited dead relatives at Manila Memorial. On the way home, I was so thirsty and I begged my lolo to stop the car to buy me something to drink. The typical Ilocano that he is, he was being kuripot at that time. It made my mouth so dry, I almost died from dehydration that day.

One Christmas, my cousins stood in line because my grandfather was giving them aguinaldo. I fell in line as well. By the time he saw me, he told me to step away. He said he would not give me any aguinaldo because I’m eating at his table and living under his roof already.

There are a lot of things that should be forgotten and I actually survived for how many years because of my grandmother who became my kanlungan. That’s the home I actually referred to that I ran away from.

How did I end up with my Ilocano lolo anyway? It’s because my half-Ilocano father was away, busy earning money abroad while my bored teenage mom was swept away by a pure-Ilocano man.

For years I disliked this Ilocano man. He was irresponsible and tore my family apart. While my father, a half-Ilocano man was as brutal as his father when it comes to punishments. If the pure Ilocano guy lost his temper at me because of my rudeness everytime I saw him, the half-Ilocano man can make my mouth bleed through his spanking.

So I met a lot of people through the years. I met an Ilocana neighbor girl on the street and everytime we had an argument, we slapped each other on the face and pull each other’s hair.

It didn’t stop there. The heartthrob on our street was swept away by a heartthrob Ilocana girl who was by the later years I found out is the cousin of the pure Ilocano man. I hated Ilocanos so much that I even blamed the ¼ Ilocano blood that I have for being dark-skinned.

So here’s the story. I fell in love last year, 25th of October 2007. The girl was a lawyer and yeah, kunatsing. I later found out that she’s a pure Ilocana and it’s too late for me. Even her Ilocano family displayed rudeness to me. As usual, there were numerous things I can hate about her. The way she makes kuripot on our dates that sometimes leads me to hunger. My mom actually knows if I’ve been on a date with her because I eat hungrily when I get home. She will say, “Kasama mo si attorney noh?”. She’s more into cheap thrills to the extent of being so miserly and it really makes me cry. I sometimes feel dizzy because even if it’s hot, she will not let me use the aircon in her car because she’s making tipid with the gas. Living with her means experiencing tipid to the max from her paulit-ulit clothes down to the 10 times recycled cooking oil.

So why do I let myself suffer? The reason is simple. Love. In spite of everything, this feeling stands out. My Ilocano grandfather and I became closer in his last few years. I remember one time when I was so angry with him I told him that when he grows old I will not take care of him. But I did. I lovingly still did. I had routines of combing his hair, changing his diapers and cooking his food. That one night he lightly kissed me on my cheek, even without a word, everything he did to me was forgiven.

The half-Ilocano man who is my father was understood. To the most hurtful day of my life, he was there. At that very moment, I really felt he was my father.

The pure Ilocano man was remorseful. To his dying days, I forgave him. It might be hard for me supporting the family he left behind, but I became closer to my mom, my 2 half brothers and my half sister who were all half Ilocanos.

I thanked God for the Ilocana girl who was my neighbor. She became my best friend, my eyes and my strength.

I feel blessed with the lawyer girl I fell in love with. Even if I’m the big Asyang Aksaya and Juan Tamad for the past three months, she still supported me. She made me see the wonders of Ilocos - the museums and old houses of Vigan. She made me taste the wonder of Ilocos from bagnet, Vigan Longganisa, dinengdeng, empanadas at the plaza, Ilocos vinegar and Basi wine. The sweetest thing this Ilocana did for me is to tell me stories for the whole duration of a six-hour trip so that I would not feel dizzy from motion sickness.

Sometimes she surprises me. There are a lot of things she will do for you despite of being kuripot. She can be so romantic - dating me for the whole day and going to a spa because household duties for me is hard. She takes me to the charming little shops that sell weird stuffs and knick-knacks. She lets me choose what I want from The Reading Room that was owned by Sandy, the fortune teller, and I pick an odd green stuffed toy named “Maleigna” because I have a huge collection of exotic dolls. I finally completed my collection of VC Andrews’ Flowers in the Attic series ‘because I found a copy of “Seeds of Yesterday” from an antique shop/booksale. She wined and dined me at Bellini’s and I had to ask myself again and again, “totoo ba ito?” (Sinampal ko na ang sarili ko, pero totoo!)

So there, I like Ilocanos. I can say it in different words synonymously. I can say I highly prize, delight in, and cherish them because, again, I am fond of them. How can I treasure them this much? Probably because I feel that I was surrounded by unique love of Ilocanos who in fact played a major role in my life.