The Original Post

In Aning’s place, five women, in separate rooms and living separate lives, used to converge at one post that stands in the middle of this old house.

Here, they literally posted poems, essays, new year’s resolutions, photos, news clippings, postcards, etc. until blogs, multiply or friendster took over and until updates on their lives became too complicated to be posted just like one of the bills.

Room No. 1 has given birth to a beautiful baby boy whose father is still unkown but who cares. Room No. 2 has just split up with her liar of a boyfriend who occupied Room No. 3 when former occupant, a timid call center agent, left unnoticed. Room No. 4 has fallen in love with another woman who now co-occupies the room. And Room No. 5, which has seen turnovers - from an accountant in love with a gay man to an indie actress in love with a priest - is now being occupied by shoes and bags, and the owner who can barely enter the room.

It's time to update the post.

Ms. World

I learned English like how I learned how to cook – out of sheer enjoyment of it and out of necessity – both reasons however would soon negate each other. I have always had fascination with languages – the elegance of French, precision of German and simplicity of Mandarin, the different kinds of sounds, to be able to create them, and be understood. But I have also been forced, like the rest of the Filipino people, to learn English to survive in the globalized economy. During my time, all subject areas including Philippine history had to be taught and learned in English, Grade 2 students would be fined 25 centavos if heard speaking in the vernacular, and students were considered dumb if they had their grammar wrong.

Things have changed – or so I thought. History is taught in Filipino now, but for a shorter time and not in all regions of the country. Students are no longer fined when speaking Filipino although continue to be punished and beaten for their misconduct. And still, finally, despite the recent scientific discovery of the seven domains of intelligence (and linguistics is just one domain), Filipinos still deride and demean wrong grammar and even wrong pronunciation for an archipelago with numerous ethno-linguistic tribes, and judge the speaker altogether as dumb.

Things have not really changed. There have been revisions in the curriculum but only in so far as there have been generations of nationalist and progressive thinkers (students and teachers alike) who would time and again push for some sanity in the Philippine educational system. Things have turned for the worse in fact – no less than the Philippine President is pushing through an executive order to make English the medium of instruction and shape education to serve the outsourcing needs of foreign corporations. Economic development in this country, according to the medium-term development plan, shall be propelled by call centers and tourism.

Watching 2008 Bb. Pilipinas-World winner Janina San Miguel answer in the Q&A portion of the pageant and after hearing all the half-time analyses and derisive comments on her bloopers, I can only lament how far we have been thrown back by this forced English. It is not only that we no longer enjoy learning new skills and exotic things, we have actually stopped learning. No, it is not Janina’s English that is crooked, it is the Philippine educational system that has produced robots for the world economy. She is not the nation’s embarrassment – it is the Philippine government that has disgraced all of us for all its wrong priorities. In the end, the ‘irregularity’ made by the pageant’s panel of judges in letting Janina win is nothing compared to President Arroyo’s cling to power while her legitimacy as President remains in question.

Oh, well, didn’t Janina say, “Oh, I’m so sorry!” in the Q&A? Guess that is the winning line.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xKwmseoKFCo

Eureka

Si Archimedes, isang scientist noong 300 B.C., nakadiskubre sa buoyancy sa pagkuha ng density ay mas makikilala sa kanyang pagtatakbo (balita ko hubo’t hubad pa at nagkakandirit pa siguro) habang sumisigaw ng “Eureka! Eureka!” Well, at least, ganyan sya kinuwento ng teacher ko nung first year high school ako.

Ako, baliktad. Tumatakbo muna bago ako makadiskubre ng mga bagay-bagay, na hindi naman of Eureka magnitude, ay sagot pa rin sa mga nakabara.


“Running can solve problems,” sabi ng mga runners. Totoo pala yun. Ilan lang sa mga eureka ko habang tumatakbo noong sabado sa academic oval.




1. Kaya pala malakas ang loob ni Arroyo na mag-Super-Regions ay awash with Chinese ODA ang gubyerno. Ang cheap kasi pala talaga ng pautang ng mga Intsik, wala pang social standards.

2. Kaya pala kahit walang tubig na lumalabas sa gripo ay sumasabak pa rin ang Maynilad sa negosyong ito kasi sa pagbubungkal pa lang ng mga kalsada kumikita na sya. “We do not only lay pipes, we build lives." Totoo pala yun. Hindi ba? Wala naman syang binanggit about providing water.


3. Hanggat may Balikatan ang US, hindi mapapatalsik si Arroyo sa EDSA. Bumabaha pa ng pera sa AFP.


4. Parang bampira rin ang CBCP - hayaan mo lang silang i-expose ang sarili nila sa liwanag, malulusaw din.

5. Si Bunye, mapatalsik si Arroyo o hindi, may career. Gusto ko syang kuning finance officer ng opisina namin, para kapag walang funds at hindi susweldo (na madalas mangyari), kaya nya itong ipaliwanag na para bang may salary increase na may bonus pa.


Sumunod na araw, linggo, may takbo na sponsored ng Bayan, "Exercise your Rights" - di ako nakasama, bukod sa nagkatrangkaso ako, e... iba na 'yun!

Pahabol sa VD

Akala ko,
kailangan ng isang epikong
siksik sa mga dula,
at makukulay na kabanata
twists and turns
cast of million
kuhang panorama
mga daring stunts
at operatic scores
sa mga whirlwind affairs
at knight-in-shining armor
na kukuha sa akin
mula sa wicked sorcerer.
Akala ko lang...
para masabing masaya.

Akala ko,
kailangang sakay ako ng kabayo
riding out in the sunset...
o sumasayaw sa ulan
kahit hindi slow-mo...
o nagtitirik ng bandila
sa tuktok ng burol
at isinisigaw ang saloobin
para lang masabing
kuha ko ang happy ending.

Mali ako.
Ang totoo,
sa maliliit na kwento ako
umapaw sa saya.
Ang bigla mo na lang
akong yayaing mag-bike
kahit madaling araw at madilim pa
at dalhin sa U.P.
at doon, kung saan sabi mong
dati kayong naghihintay
ng babagsak na bulalakaw,
ay kumain tayo ng breakfast
take-out mula sa Rodick's
pinahiga ang mga bisikleta
at sumalampak sa damuhan
habang binubugaw si Muning.

At mula sa ating meteor garden
ay umuwi tayo sa Sta. Ana,
at sa pagod nakatulog
gumising kang may topak,
nag-trip ka ng pritong Maling
at ako naman ay bumili kay Akik
ng isang bandehadong pancit.

Ang turuan mo akong
mag-ukay-ukay sa hilltop sa Baguio
at habulin ang pagbagsak ng presyo,
bumili ng mga damit
na walang subok-subok
at pag-uwi sa bahay
ay ikaw din naman lahat ang magsusuot
kasi walang magkasya sa akin.

Ang gusto ko lang naman
sabihin, maligayang maligaya ako
sa ating maliliit na eksena
nagtatampisaw akong sobra
may sayaw at himig sa akin
wagayway ng iba't ibang kulay
sakay sa ulap sa saliw ng hangin
at marami pang kakaibang damdamin
At gusto ko ring sabihin
sana wala itong ending.

Strawberry Fields Forever

Let me take you down
cos I'm going to strawberry fields
nothing is real
and nothing to get hung about
strawberry fields forever.

Living is easy with eyes closed
misunderstanding all you see
it's getting hard to be someone
but it all works out
it doesn't matter much to me.

No one I think is in my tree
I mean it must be high or low
that is you can't you know tune in but it's all right
that is I think it's not too bad.

Always, no sometimes, think it's me
but you know I know when it's a dream
I think I know I mean a "Yes" but it's all wrong
that is I think I disagree.

(Lennon-McCartney)

Some songs are utterly senseless, like this one. (Don't get me wrong, I'm a Beatle fan.) But sometimes it's a thin line between inanity and profundity, I guess. It all depends on the experience or the moment when the song comes to mind. I came to La Trinidad Valley and left singing this song. Believe it or not, it was my first time in the country's famed strawberry fields!

Bike for Hope

We joined the 7th Bike for Hope, held this time in the Bicol region. Bike for Hope is an advocacy ride for health and the environment that is led (or rather, left behind) by Senator Pia Cayetano. (No joke, the Senator can pedal really fast.)

I joined the 6th Bike for Hope last year from Sta. Rosa to Sta. Cruz, Laguna. My friends and I were the last to arrive. I crashed on my way home and had bursitis in my left knee, which took my doctor three months to cure. It was not exactly a wonderful experience, this so-called Bike for Hope, but what the heck . Who can resist Mount Mayon?

Besides, I offered Mango this ride as peace offering for my shortcomings, that we get to bike together in her hometown.

So we packed the bikes and took the executive coach to Legazpi City. We arrived on Friday, got to rest before the main event, although at first we couldn't re-assemble the bikes in their original efficiency.

The ride was on Saturday - it was a gruelling 100-kilometer tour of winding and undulating road from Naga City to Legazpi City. We were coming from Camalig, Albay - 82 kilometers away from the starting line and around 18 kilometers away from the finish line - approximately a two-hour-drive to Naga City. We left Camalig at 4:00 am.

There were only a handful of participants when we arrived in Naga City, mostly hardcore cyclists, and we were the first women to register. Jitters, jitters, jitters! Later, another woman besides us, a foreigner, signed up, then two others - one who looked like a man and another who did not promise to finish. Then the other big boost to my confidence was when our friend, Mike Ac-Ac, Senator Pia's media officer, announced that the good Senator was not really feeling well, and might rest and stop often along the way. Yahoo! I was feeling lucky!

But then again, the real confidence booster was when Senator Pia, before take-off, shook my hand and posed with Mango and me for the media.

So there we were, at 20 kph, but only for the first three kilometers, then slowing down to 18, 15, 12, 10...until the atmosphere turned from energetic to solemn to solitary and until the only guys left in our pack were two old men in their 60s and five foreigners (the foreign sister among them) who simply wanted to enjoy the view.

Then our pack went on conversation pace. "We were just doing ulay-ulay (Bicol of small talk) about ourselves, then madam passed away," the old man was saying in comic English, referring to his little chat with our English-speaking participant.

The ride was not easy, I have to admit for the nth time. My thighs cramped rock-hard, my butt hurt, my shoulders stiffened, my chest ached. The sun was reluctant to come out, which would have been a welcome thing for a long ride, but the draft was terrible (especially as we passed by rice fields) and it would rain every now and then. The old men dropped out in the town of Pulangi. In Ligao City, Mango and I decided to go straight home when we reached Camalig. Upon reaching Guinobatan, the town before Camalig, our foreign sister was trying to convince us to take the jeepney to Legazpi City. We declined since we were dropping out in the next town anyway.



Me and Mayon. Well, yeah, you can't make me out, but you can't make out Mayon either. The volcano was elusive the whole time.

Our self-defined finish line. Upon reaching almost 80 kilometers and five hours later, admittedly our glycogen stores had been fully depleted.

We never really got to see Senator Pia again after the take-off. She didn't stop to rest after all. We heard later from Mike that the adrenalin from the ride made her well. (It was diarrhea by the way.)

We also heard from Mike that they had a good program in Legazpi City. The local organizations got the chance to talk about the devastation of Rapu-Rapu Island because of mining acitivities by Lafayette Corporation and about the lack of hospitals in the region.

We will always be taunted by our families and friends for not finishing the century, but it was fulfilling to know that the real issues were discussed.

15 Years

15 taon na ako sa insti. Nalampasan ko na ang dalawang episodes ng tinatawag na 7-year itch at eto pa rin ako. Nagsisimula uling mangati, pero sabi nga ng mga kasama ko, "Anong seven-seven-year itch, pamburgis lang yon!"

Naikot ko na yata lahat ng departments. Mula research, seminars, publications, maski administration at logistics. Kulang na lang maging security rin ako ng "under siege" naming opisina, though may panahon ngang ako ang taga-susi sa gabi.

Pati mga special committees katulad ng "building committee" (noong nagpatayo kami ng building), "rushcom" (noong nagka-krisis kami sa delivery), o kaya, ang generic na "staff committee" (isang machinery para sa mga kaso ng dispalko, sexual harassment at iba pang kasong pandisiplina) ay nasalihan ko na. (Nasubukan ko na ring ako mismo ang may kaso at na-staff committee!) Syempre part din ako ng mga komiteng binubuo para sa mga special occasions tulad ng christmas party at outing. (At nasubukan ko na ring maging kandidata sa Ms. Pagudpud 2000 nung mag-outing kami sa Ilocos, natalo nga lang at hanggang ngayon ay "under protest" ito, at syempre naging "Queen of the Night" noong 60s ang theme ng aming christmas party.)

Nahawakan ko na rin lahat ng pusisyon - writer, editor, director. Nakatrabaho ko na lahat ng klase ng kasama - may kapansanan (marami nito) at wala (may isa o dalawa); ambisyosa (may mangilan-ngilan) at matatakutin; kwela at uptight (may isa o dalawa at mas nakakatawa sila kesa sa mga kwela); OC (obsessive compulsive - marami rin nito) at burara (finance officer ito ha!). Marami kaming bading at marami pang napa-out sa proseso, ang iba naimpluwensyahan na lang namin.

Naisulat ko na yata lahat ng usapin - economics, politics, culture - mula sa pagsasara ng mga pabrika at pagpapalit ng presidente hanggang sa pagdami ng shopping malls at pag-kain ng junk food. Pati manual of operations ng opisina namin naisulat ko na rin.

Humarap na ako sa lahat ng klase ng audience. Syempre ang staple - manggagawa at magsasaka - pero andyan din ang mga teachers, estudyante, negosyante, propesyunal, kapari-an, ka-sister-an, congressmen. Pati sa Rotary Club nakapagsalita na rin ako. Itim, puti, latino, hapon, tsino, asyano, ilokano, bisaya, bicolano, moro.

Nakuha ko na rin lahat ng sakit na may kinalaman sa stress - balakubak, galis, ngiping umiikot pero hindi naman sira, pati yung TB ko sabi ng duktor ay stress-related. Kung paano na-stress ang mga bacteria di ko alam pero somehow, naniniwala ako.

Nagawa ko na rin lahat para aliwin pa sarili ko. Andyang mag-mountaineering ako. Lumangoy, mag-bisikleta, tumakbo - hanggang magbalak na nga akong sumali ng triathlon na hindi naman matuloy-tuloy dahil "busy" nga ako di ba? (Sasali na talaga ako this year, tutal wala na akong ka-age category.). Nagkulay na din ako ng mga coloring books, nag-subok magcross-stitch pero sige marathon na lang. Buryong na ako.

Matagal-tagal na talaga ako sa insti. Dito na ako nakapag-asawa at nawalan. Dito ko na natutunan lahat ng mas mahahalagang bagay kesa sa mga tinuro sa eskwela, katulad ng rebolusyon, naks, pero ayoko na talaga. Gusto ko nang magpalipat.

Kaya nga nung isang araw, nagpaalam na ako. Gusto ko sana sa hanay ng mga magsasaka, gusto ko literally sa field, makawala sa opisina, humarap sa tao at hindi puros computer, matuto ng mga totoong kwento sa pakikinig at hindi lang sa kababasa.

Maraming kundisyon, maraming kailangang tapusin, at dapat makapag-train ng kapalit, bago daw ako makakaalis. Ganun, parang katulong. Pero ang irony sa lahat, marami raw akong dapat i-unlearn kasi ang mga natutunan ko sa insti, laluna na yung style of work, ay hindi naman daw bagay sa peasants!

Bike Packing

We packed our bikes for a century ride this weekend in Bicol. Packing alone was already a major activity, perhaps even tougher than the 100-kilometer tour.

But we took on the challenge. Using 'locally sourced materials' such as carton boxes from the bodega, bubble plastic from the office, plastic straw from the neighborhood grocery store, and wait, plastic tape from 711, and some instructions through text messaging from biker-friends, we produced works of art.

My Chemical Romance

The night's chemistry was perfect. Six women - an interesting mix in terms of types of music and deadlines - decided to "watch" the concert at the Fort (we didn't have tickets and planned to simply listen at the roadside); cook and pack pasta in pesto sauce for baon (since we were more like going on a picnic rather than to a concert); bring chips and popcorn (oh well, takot magutom); and not to drink at all (since there are no toilets out there in the open field).

(The pasta didn't make it to our 'picnic', we wolfed it down before setting out.)

We came prepared. The whole day in the office, I listened to My Chemical Romance to set the mood, Chulah wikipedia-ed the band to learn more about them while Glen watched them in YouTube.


So there we were trying to get a sense of MCR. But we had more fun watching the punks who like us could not afford decent passes than watching the video wall as MCR played one song after another. Right there and then, Chulah decided to be a punk, sobrang natuwa sa fashion, although we advised her to adopt the attitude more than anything else.

It was a fun night. The only thing that didn't mix well was MCR itself. The band is a Green Day front act and sorely lacks identity. It even sounded like Air Supply towards the end. We didn't finish the concert. Like the punks, we started marching home before the encore ended. We debriefed over bottles of Colt 45 at Edsa Central market in the crowd of call center agents.

The Lost Weekend

I waited

Every day I waited
for you to come up my floor
and tell me yes
you also feel the tremor
of this unspoken sadness.
Tell me that
through our common walls
you hear the whispers
of my agonizing reason
I am a mess! Tell me
that you hear my footsteps
as my mind wanders
in the forbidden corners of this room
while I quietly hope.

I waited
and looked over my window
to see what we are both seeing
as the trees begin to sway
and leaves fall on the pavement
as my view turns overcast
tell me you will remember
and tell me yes
you also feel the rain in my heart.
That through the glass
you hear my silent screams
as the rain pours on every word
that you do recognize
how yearning has turned to patience
my thoughts to stupor
my laughter to a raging storm.
And assure me, yes
you too feel the cold
that the wind brings in our separate lives
that you shiver as much as I do
in the thought of another night.

I waited for you
to linger in my corridor
and play a song by my prison door
liberate me with a tender refrain,
or with a simple line,
say something, anything!
that is recognizably mine
and offer me a resonant chord
that I can carry in my heart
as I too meander in the vastness
of this undeclared passion.
and leave me an unfinished poem
and let me end it, into a great epic
that as you say, we will never have,
Tell me that, yes you do
hear the sonnet of unrequited love.

I guess I’ve waited long enough.

(October 2006)

Gusto kong magpaalam

Gusto kong magpaalam
Kahit di pa ako dumarating
Kahit di pa kumakatok
Sa puso mong nakapinid.

Gusto kong lumayo
Kahit di pa ako lumalapit
At hindi ko pa natatanaw
Ang bubong ng iyong pag-ibig.

Tumahimik, kahit gusto kong isigaw,
Ang mga bagay na hindi ko maibulong
Dahil maraming makaririnig.
Lumakad nang marahan
Kahit ubos na ang panahon
Sa mga bagay na walang nararating.

Maibsan sana ang aking pagsisisi
Sa mga bagay na hindi naman nangyari,
Mga salitang hindi naman nasabi, mga hinagpis
At luhang minadali. Gusto kong maiyak.

Gusto kong tapusin
Ang hindi ko pa nasisimulan
Isara ang hindi ko pa nabubuksan
At gawing nakaraan ang hindi pa dumarating na kinabukasan
Nating dalawa, sa gitna ng kawalan ay panghihinayang
Kung ang sana ay nagaganap na,
Ano pa kaya ang maaari kong asahan?

(October 2005)

Transformative Education

I spent the weekend in Bacolod City giving a talk on transformative education. I got back in Manila on Monday and presided over a meeting with the agenda of going over the chronology of office events of the past five years in order to draw lessons from the period. I moved on to February 14 to have another meeting that tried to get a sense of the chronology, then spent the evening up to the wee hours drinking with alcoholics who made 'valentine's day' an excuse to drink in the middle of the week.

I just had a board meeting today and really made an effort to appear respectable, responsible, credible, and really listening while I was having the worst hangover. During the lunch break, one of our board members casually asked me about my TE seminar, and gaad, I struggled for something to say.

Transformative Education or TE is a paradigm for teachers who care to change their students into citizens who would change society into a better place. The key is the teacher - the teacher also has to transform herself into a socially aware human being who has a conscience, commitment and action. My audience in Bacolod was a mix of hardline and hardened teachers who argued on one basic thing: the doability of TE. I intervened many times in the open forum but the teachers (especially the 'doable camp') started crying and getting really emotional and I drifted in my own thoughts.

I would say the word 'commitment' is really scary - scarier than the dreaded C itself. People go at lengths to explain so many things, explore answers in unknown places, overcome fears through reason, philosophize love and revolution, but never really get close to commitment. Nothing is more dreadful than saying yes to something no matter what; declaring a belief system does not come close to saying yes - and that's what makes commitment different and scary - it is devoid of rhetoric.

And probably that is the reason for the crying bout by the 'doable camp' in my Bacolod seminar. The teachers realized that by defending the doability of TE they cannot avoid the moment of truth, i.e. when they will have to actually commit themselves to transformation. Courage, ah, courage is a decision.