three hundred and sixty five

today i am wearing the same shirt i was wearing exactly 365 days ago.

i didn't mean to.

when i realized the coincidence, the memories of the day that the calendar says is of long ago came rushing back like the waves lapping at the broken seawall.

so.... where were you 365 days ago?

tying the knot

these past few months, everyone seems to be getting married.

joan and orvil last september.

"alchemy all stars"

drei and gagets also on september.

their plate reads LAB...

mike and eka on october.

cool cool wedding

anjo and vem on november.

and ate ping and kuya fred just last week.

now there's talk of two more weddings coming up first quarter of next year.

am not saying who the first couple is... not yet.. :D

nah. actually i just needed an excuse to post this photo that i took of them. but we're all hopeful. :D

and i know for certain that ivan and janyl are getting hitched come may 2010.

don't look at me. if we're talking about weddings, the only knot i intend to tie is the windsor knot which i (finally) learned at last week's wedding.

Counting Costs

i can be famous. i've got potential. i've got skill. i graduated from a good school. i know a few people.

but i am not going to be famous.

i am never going to hear crowds cheer for me. i am never going to be credited for anything that did so much as stir a ripple on earth's surface. i am never going to get to drive a fancy car that i bought with my own money. i am never going to be what people thought i would/could be.

but i am going to be the person i want to be.

i know only the price of non-fame. and i think i can afford it. :)

baby steps to a grand day

one of my favoritest things in the world are long long walks. whether it's with people i love or it's just me and my thoughts, i love walking. naturally, i prefer doing it across green, flower laden meadows or under large trees or along a seldom-used trail that cuts across a little creek. but when company's real good or when the solitude urges, i don't mind navigating the busy, noisy, smoggy streets of the city.

a few months back, i discovered a way to make every day wonderful. starting it with prayer and a longish walk under a still-starry sky. every day, my dogs (and at times, other welcome companions) join me for a one-to-two-hour walk. it's lots of fun. coming across people who you greet, "maayong buntag" or calling back the pooch that's straying too far or just pausing under a streetlamp.

my favorite part is stopping by an open field to watch the sun rising and slowly coloring up the clouds and everything else. it's one of the most wonderful sights in the entire world.

i come home from these walks fulfilled and energized.

the dullness of these past days i've come to blame on the failure to get my legs tired in the process of watching night turn to day.

just the other day, i wanted so much to take a morning walk. but things came up, and it was a cold morning. so i missed the sunrise once again.

but just as i thought i missed the way to a grand day, i found myself in the home of one-year old Baby Angel who was just learning to walk by herself. for about thirty minutes, her small fingers clasped mine and we took the smallest of steps back and forth across their living room.

i so loved the way she felt light and heavy at the same time. and i just adore the way she "bangs" on her mother's bedroom door and calls, "momeee." and there's so much to be said about sitting alone with her in her uncle's bedroom floor, playing with her grandmother's left slipper.

not that i want to miss every single sunrise for this, but it's safe to say that the deviation from the usual was a really good one. and my day turned out to be just as grand.

baby Angel and her uncle in a morning stretch at the camp site last month

and speaking of babies and walks, my four-legged morning walk companions are going to have puppies soon soon soon. :)

and and and, this afternoon i found this piece of music that reminds me of my much-missed morning walks. (am not too sure about the video, but i like the song. :) )

worse than an alien abduction

MojoJoJo, we sometimes called him, though he was nothing like the large-headed villain of powerpuff fame.

he was our timid, funny, diligent, patient, and uber kind maintenance guy at the office.

note how I use the past tense.

this afternoon, i passed by the bakeshoppe near the workplace jojo and i used to share. i half-expected to see him there on an errand.

Jolito Evardo -our Jojo - is gone. that is the only way i can speak of him in the present tense. he was murdered, along with at least 56 others.

brutal. yeah, tell me about it.

before jojo came to work with us, he did not know anything about computers. but he was more diligent than most of us. he learned and learned and learned. photo editing, shooting videos, video editing. jojo learned. several months later, he left. to work as a video editor in a national news company.

that was how it happened. that was how he became part of the massacre (how i hate to use this word when i am talking about jojo). they were covering that news story. he was in the leading car of the convoy.

such diligence, such kindness, such potential, such patience. all gone now.

how jojo made all our lives easier back then. how he gave us things to laugh about, things to think about, things to smile about.

once we all arrived at the office finding his blue slippers just outside the door, pointing in. but there was no sign of our quiet guy anywhere - not the receiving area, the offices, the post-prod suites, the wash rooms, the balcony, the SouthSpot area, the roof, the space between the roof and the ceiling (yep, we looked). he wasn't there.

the boss's theory: alien abduction.

we spent the morning laughing, imagining jojo flirting with martian girls. he has never had a girlfriend, you see.

we never know what to expect from beings from other planets. and from beings that are from this one, we want to believe that we do know what to expect. but we don't, do we?

the murder of 57 innocent, unarmed humans. it's all so heartless.

i try not to imagine how it went - those last hours of his life. for when i do, i find myself wishing it was one bullet to the head or heart. jojo deserved better wishes.

i have nothing to say about those who took his life; i do not know them. but i knew jojo; he was a good guy. for a life well-lived, jojo will have his reward. for their crime, the villains will have theirs. of that i am certain.

funny, it still feels like one of those times when an officemate would look to another and ask, "naabot na si jojo?" "kita ka kay jojo?" "asa si jojo?"

a few minutes later we'd find him. maybe bent over the broken swiveling chair in the balcony, or sleeping on one of the suite couches, or arriving from an errand, or coming down the stairs with mop in one hand and bucket in another. but always, we found him.

heh. it's not one of those times, is it?

11/05/2009

to the atheist who loved me

you and me. like all things else, we are but projections of the same energy. variants, you called them. us.

we do not exist. nothing does.

you and me. we are but molecule and molecule put together. randomly.

that was how it was decided -no, that was how it turned out that your fingers would be a few centimeters longer than mine.

and the sun shall rise and shine just as much, whether we walked under it or not.

and the stars above us, they would fall, whether we watched, or wished, or slept.

for such is the way of light not made for our eyes.

amidst it all, somewhere between (or maybe beyond) darkness and light, there is what you hear and what i said. a string of lines, curved and not, oohs and aahs. it is only by sheer chance that we believe we understand.

we are cosmic dust that "could have flashed by one another, but didn't." we stopped for a little chitchat. and then we moved on again. without purpose or direction. just random movement spurred by other variants of the energy that is also ourselves. without anything to wait for or anything to wait for us - except perhaps that ultimate end. as insignificant, pragmatic, unsentimental, and meaningless as the beginning and the space in between.

there is no all-seeing eye. no universal truth. only relativity. i am not real. because the things that are in me and the things that are me are not. there is only you and the things that you are.

so then you see that the glitch is not really you, but me. i am but a glitch in your reality. or maybe "glitch" is not the right word. i am an occurrence, like all others.

like love and pain and memory. we all come and go, even the open nerve that is absence.

then you'll have to admit. there will be others. because there is no certainty nor finality. no destiny, no design, no God. (only fairies and Santa Claus.)

and when you do find yourself in touch with that other piece of cosmic dust that you'd call "one true love," maybe you'll understand. or perhaps that other piece does not exist out there. maybe you'll understand better.

i know here i misunderstood. forgive me.

11/04/2009

he's still here somehow

somehow i do not have the words for this blog entry.

to put it simply, i found love and let it go.

we were different. we still are.

we spent the hours just talking about anything and everything. as usual. as if we didn't know the end was upon us. but more because we knew for a fact that the end was upon us.

we agreed never to see each other again. never to exchange IMs. never to text. never to communicate.

one final goodbye. and then he left.

funny. i was smiling.

funny. it didn't feel like goodbye.

funny. it felt like he'd be there all the more. like we just promised to stay together. like i know we'll just keep on loving, only this time from farther away.

but it was goodbye.

the future is not mine. i know that. he'll find love. i'll always pray for that.

i'm just hoping he'll remember. the same way i will.

ray of hope

ang barong, bow

..

dear maki,

today i was really sick. slept the entire day, and naturally, dreamed many dreams. i remember only a couple though.

in one, i had to dress up for a play and i was dressing up in Chateau del Mar, Room 205. and there was this folded board game that wouldn't fit into its box because there was something in between the folds. i reached for whatever it was and knew what i would find - your barong, with a pair of gray slacks. i took them and rushed to Room 210 where you were alone and gave them to you as a surprise. you complimented me and complimented me some more like you never did before.

i plopped onto the bed. and you locked the door. and you undressed and dressed into the barong and beamed at me. end of dream.

gladys

-unsent letters, 09/16/2009

an afternoon by the street

how long has it been since the last entry? the past days have sped by so happily. but only because i lay all fear, all responsibility aside. in a closet where they are now tossing and turning, churning, becoming my own monster, my personal ghost.

i am seated in our nipa hut (one that's ready to crumble) just outside the house. i THINK i am quite a sight. a sign of life in this otherwise (but/and usually) silent, unmoving scene.

i see everyone, and everyone can see me. today i am rebelling. today i am up for people to view. today i am not hiding.

see, i want them to see that i can exist here, my space, and have nothing to do with them. this is MY space. i want to explain why i am here. i want you, reader, to understand. but more than that, i want to grasp why i am here. i want it to be tangible enough, solid enough for me to hold and show you. but, as usual, words fail me.

somehow i want to be part of this community. this scenery. somehow i want to make a mark and leave it here, for good. somehow i want to look and stare at all of them and feel that i have every right to. and pretend that it is normal for a girl (it is too tiring to describe me right now) to stare at them.

such longish thoughts. i must write that script now.

-my journal, 10/15/2009

at the wedding

the people from work



and the rest of the gang. party of the year! :)

color your world young :)

two to tango

they two are so different. but when i think of one, i inevitably, invariably think of the other also. they both left, by the way. one because he cares, the other other because he doesn't.

i don't tango anyway. i don't dance.

feathery thoughts

helping out in the wedding preparations is one of the maid-of-honor's sworn duties. the others, i imagine, include arriving on time and making sure the bridal train looks photogenic all throughout the ceremony.

the "helping out" part was how i found myself cross-legged on the floor of a surplus store in downtown Davao, wading through the shining, shimmering, splendid blues and greens of about a million peacock feathers.

i needed 130 of the almost-surreal plumes that Joan wants to decorate the wedding invites with.

choosing the tenth feather, i just had to ask the saleslady how long i had before the shop closed. two hours. decent.


i considered the two tall baskets in front of me and realized that peacock feathers, like most things beautiful, are fragile. each of the feathers had to be examined for damages.

the shaft is a cross between plastic and very flimsy bamboo, and is very breakable, the feathers velvety and iridescent, and the "eye" at the tip a most amazing metallic blue.

call me silly, but i remember the prettiest feathers i picked: choice # 64, 67, and 94.

it was really rather sad that i couldn't think too much as i handpicked all 130 plumes. besides evaluating each of them, i also had to keep a mental count (which i kept losing anyway). the thoughts i would have had. i managed a few though:

...cool of joan to think of peacock feathers to fasten the invites with. talk about flair.

...of course, if any birds at all were harmed in the gathering of these dreamy feathers. (i read somewhere that peacocks shed them, so no.)

...if anyone's ever thought of a peacock-inspired wedding. most probably.

i think i'd want one. peacock feathers not only on the invites but on the dresses too. peacock feathers for corsages and bouquets. peacock feathers instead of tulips or long-stemmed roses. and feather girls instead of flower ones.

dreamy.

but nah. i think i'll just buy two hundred peacock feathers and skip the entire wedding idea, then buy books and fruit tarts with the money i'd save.

learning from my own journal

so i was browsing through my journal this afternoon, and i found this entry dated june18, 2009. reading it, i find myself relearning the lessons of that day.

there is so much to write about: love and friendship and laughter and tears and people and skies and stars and children and jeepney rides and rain and endless possibilities. there is so much to dream of. so much to see, so much to give.

i think, "where does happiness go when it is not with me?"

when we went to visit pompoy last week, uncle Ben quoted Job. God had said to Job what i think i am hearing Him say to me today. until i can follow the wind and know where it goes each time it blows, until i can trace the movement of each wave, the ebb and flow of each tide, until i have numbered the birds and the fish, until i have known the desire of each human heart, i am no [true] judge of what is fair and what is not. it'll be alright. i'll be alright.

Like Stars

To the stranger who was my friend and is most my friend in this never-ending end, thank you. Let's think of ourselves as stars, shall we?

pimply puff

maid of honor!

so my friends are finally getting married after being together for ten years. and they've picked me to be maid of honor. and i am just so honored, seriously.

i was first told by the groom yesterday, and all i could say was "what?! wow! why?"

you see, the bride and i aren't what you'd call best friends exactly. which is not to say that we aren't good friends, because we are. we've shared millions of conversations, some of them laced with tears and most streaked with downright laughter.

still, i could think of at least five other people who are better qualified.

i've been told that the wedding has been planned to be really exclusive. and i even doubted my chances of getting an invitation. and now, maid of honor! wow! why?

come to think of it, i don't remember ever being with either groom or bride outside the workplace, with the exception of the regular workpeople eat-outs. so yes, wow! why?

the other workpeople have started to tease me about wearing make-up and a gown. i am so clumsy with make-up and gowns (actually, i hate make-up; gowns i could probably live with). and the groom has already thought of a way to make the torture of it a little more lasting: photos, lots and lots of photos.

gladys in a gown, and looking all girly. that really would make an interesting addition to the rather long list of things the workpeople tease me for (just when i thought they couldn't possibly come up with more).

just thinking of it all makes me feel downright abashed. but know what i really think? what i really really think? i think i don't care too much. so what if i have to wear an uber-girly dress (that's most probably glossy)? so what if i have to endure a solo march (solo march?! please let it not be the slow type, please!) down a church aisle (a not particularly long aisle, i hope)? so what if there'd be photos (lots and lots of photos) to document it all and serve as evidence for years (and years) after?

i don't care. i think the honor of having been chosen is all worth it.

thank you very much, joan and orvil! for even considering me. i'll be there, in the glossy dress with heels (waaah! heels!) to match.

august 6, 2009

My Little Copycat*

My lola's birthday was yesterday, but we only got to visit her today. She was, of course, glad to see my mother, my sister (especially my sister), and myself. And we were really glad to see that she was well.

But what I found really interesting about this little trip of ours (besides the different route we took to get there and back home) was Shaira, my cousin's two-year-old daughter.

She's a sweet little thing with a chubby face, large eyes that are black as coal, plump limbs, and energy so boundless we can only complain about it. When she's up, she leaves you hoping she'll get tired real soon. But you're still bound to get tired just watching her before she tires herself.

And she adores me. That's my favorite part. :)

I was not allowed to sit anywhere else in the house but on the floor with her. I was introduced to her puppet Wabbit, her latest, and therefore her best-loved, stuffed animal (a gift from her bully-of-a-cousin Aiken who I also love.. and bully :D ). And major sign that I was loved: she turns up her chubby cheeks to me, bats her eyelashes, hands me her plastic cup, and says "tubig please." Yep, only her favorite people get to be asked. And I made a total of five trips to the kitchen in 10 minutes, getting a sweet "tik yu" each time. (Don't ask me where she put all that water, I don't know either.)

She follows me everywhere and does everything I do, to the delight of relatives all around. She handed me one of lolo's straw hats, put another one on her own head, and we strutted around in them for a while. I sit, she sits. I cross my legs, she tries to cross her short stubby ones (not that mine are long. well, they're definitely longer than hers). When she noticed that I had slippers on, she took mama's slippers. when those proved to be too big, she took lolo's, then finally lola's. i touch my nose, she touches hers. i rub my tummy, she rubs hers. i pretend to sleep, well she won't fall for that one.

In the middle of it all, my cellphone rings, and of course, little copycat had to have her phone too. so she snatches my sister's. everyone was laughing and i didn't even notice. she had the phone to her ear and was repeating after me, saying only the last word of each statement. the relatives' favorite was "char!"

I was on the phone for almost five minutes and she followed my every gesture. touched her face, lifted her legs on to the chair, flicked her hair, rested a hand on her knee. i only noticed what she was doing when i started fumbling with the belt loop of my shorts and she couldn't find one on her pajamas.

i love my little niece.

When she wasn’t copying me, she was all over me like I was some climbing tree, whether I’m standing, seated, or flat on my back. And my small bony self was expected to support every move of her plump, heavy body.

The only time she ever sat still was when my mother drilled her on the names of different body parts (where’s your nose? And etc) and the sounds made by farm animals (unsay tingug sa baka? And etc). She answered all of them correctly, mind you.

And then it was time for us to go. But first, I had to walk her back to their house which was a short distance from my grandparents’. Along the way, she told me, in garbled and disjointed words, of the cobra she saw under the footbridge – a story I understood only because her grandmother had told us about it earlier.

Once we were inside the house, she closed the door – meaning I had to STAY inside. She was all over me as soon as I sat down. And even when her eyes were drooping, she wouldn’t stay in her hammock. She sat on my lap and planted wet kisses all over my face. She hugged me and said “adabyu ta lai (when she was younger, her mother referred to me as “tita ganda.” She apparently does not remember).”

That’s how it was decided that I wouldn’t leave until she fell asleep, which was around thirty minutes, introduction to 10 stuffed animals, and two milk bottles later.

(*this is a repost from an entry dated august 3,2009)

i=

there's security in loving someone better than you, fulfillment in loving one who needs you. but the kind of love i've always wanted is the love of an equal.