Inventory of normality

An Excerpt from Paulo Coelho's blog (with some personal commentaries)

in “The winner stands alone”, by Paulo Coelho

1] Anything that makes us forget our true identity and our dreams and makes us only work to produce and reproduce. (Check.)

2] Making rules for a war (the Geneva Convention). 

3] Spending years at university and then not being able to find a job. (I'm afraid this is true. A university degree doesn't equate with finding a job especially here in our country.)

4] Working from nine in the morning to five in the afternoon at something that does not give us the least pleasure, so that we can retire after 30 years. (I honestly don't want this to happen with me.)

5] Retiring only to discover that we have no more energy to enjoy life, and then dying of boredom after a few years.

6] Using Botox.

7] Trying to be financially successful instead of seeking happiness.

8] Ridiculing those who seek happiness instead of money by calling them “people with no ambition”. (In short, judging.)

9] Comparing objects like cars, houses and clothes, and defining life according to these comparisons instead of really trying to find out the true reason for being alive. (Once in a while, one really has to take a step back and see from a wider lens the things that really matter.)

10] Not talking to strangers. Saying nasty things about our neighbors.

11] Thinking that parents are always right. 

12] Getting married, having children and staying together even though the love has gone, claiming that it’s for the sake of the children (who do not seem to be listening to the constant arguments). 

12ª] Criticizing everybody who tries to be different. (Again, judging.)

14] Waking up with a hysterical alarm-clock at the bedside. (Alarm clocks don't work for me.)

15] Believing absolutely everything that is printed. (Duh?)

16] Wearing a piece of colored cloth wrapped around the neck for no apparent reason and known by the pompous name “necktie”. (Why, this made me laugh!)

17] Never asking direct questions, even though the other person understands what you want to know.

18] Keeping a smile on your face when you really want to cry. And feeling sorry for those who show their own feelings. (Being honest with my feelings? Oh. I need to practice more on this to reduce normality level.)

19] Thinking that art is worth a fortune, or else that it is worth absolutely nothing.

20] Always despising what was easily gained, because the “necessary sacrifice” – and therefore also the required qualities – are missing.

21] Following fashion, even though it all looks ridiculous and uncomfortable.

22] Being convinced that all the famous people have tons of money saved up.

23] Investing a lot in exterior beauty and paying little attention to interior beauty.

24] Using all possible means to show that even though you are a normal person, you are infinitely superior to other human beings.

25] In any kind of public transport, never looking straight into the eyes of the other passengers, as this may be taken for attempting to seduce them.

26] When you enter an elevator, looking straight at the door and pretending you are the only person inside, however crowded it may be.

27] Never laughing out loud in a restaurant, no matter how funny the story is.

28] In the Northern hemisphere, always wearing the clothes that match the season of the year: short sleeves in springtime (however cold it may be) and a woolen jacket in the fall (no matter how warm it is).

29] In the Southern hemisphere, decorating the Christmas tree with cotton wool, even though winter has nothing to do with the birth of Christ.

30] As you grow older, thinking you are the wisest man in the world, even though not always do you have enough life experience to know what is wrong.

31] Going to a charity event and thinking that in this way you have collaborated enough to put an end to all the social inequalities in the world.

32] Eating three times a day, even if you’re not hungry. (I so agree with this. Why do we have to be timed with the clock?)

33] Believing that the others are always better at everything: they are better-looking, more resourceful, richer and more intelligent. Since it’s very risky to venture beyond your own limits, it’s better to do nothing.

34] Using the car as a way to feel powerful and in control of the world.

35] Using foul language in traffic.

36] Thinking that everything your child does wrong is the fault of the company he or she is keeping.

37] Marrying the first person who offers you a position in society. Love can wait.

38] Always saying “I tried”, even though you haven’t tried at all.

39] Putting off doing the most interesting things in life until you no longer have the strength to do them.

40] Avoiding depression with massive daily doses of television programs.

41] Believing that it is possible to be sure of everything you have won.

42] Thinking that women don’t like football and that men don’t like interior decoration.

43] Blaming the government for everything bad that happens. 

44] Being convinced that being a good, decent and respectful person means that the others will find you weak, vulnerable and easy to manipulate.

45] Being convinced that aggressiveness and discourtesy in treating others are signs of a powerful personality.

46] Being afraid of fibroscopy (men) and childbirth (women).

47] And finally, thinking that your religion is the sole proprietor of the absolute truth, the most important, the best, and that the other human beings in this immense planet who believe in any other manifestation of God are condemned to the fires of hell. 

Namimiss ko na ang hardcore na paglikha

Ibig kong sabihin, ang pagsusulat, namimiss ko na. Yung pagsusulat para magpahayag ng katotohan.Noong kolehiyo ako, journalism ang kurso ko. Gusto ko ang pagsusulat at ang mismong propesyon ng pagbabalita. Hindi nga lang iyon ang pinasok kong propesyon dahil sa academe ako tumuloy. May kinalaman man sa komunikasyon ang trabaho ko, alam kong malaking bahagi ng inaral ko nung college ang hindi ko na nagagamit sa trabaho. Sinusubukan kong punuan ang kahungkagan sa pamamagitan ng pagba-blog, ng pagsusulat at pag-eedit sa aming parish newsletter, ng pagsusulat at pag-eedit ng mga letters sa opisina, pero alam kong lahat ng ito, hindi kayang tumbasan ang bigat ng pagsusulat para sa pamamahayag na dala-dala ko. 

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Ang lahat ng bagay may kapalit. Dahil gusto kong palawakin pa ang kaalaman ko sa akademya, nag-aaral pa ko ngayon. Kaya nga hindi ko pa mabitiwan ang comforts ng academe. Sa pag-aaral ko, inaasahan kong mas magiging mahusay ako sa field ng communication. Pero hindi maiiwasang magtanong ako, ano kaya'ng meron sa labas ng bakuran na ginagalawan ko? Ano kayang meron sa baba ng burol?

Gusto ko nang bumaba mula sa burol pero alam kong hilaw pa ang oras. 

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Hindi daw nagloload ang site ko sa laptop ng isa kong kaibigan. Literal :( . 

I wish you enough

I read the following article from author, Paulo Coelho's blog. I particularly liked it because I, too, believe in the law of moderation. 

Recently I overheard a father and daughter in their last moments together at the airport. They had announced the departure.

Standing near the security gate, they hugged and the father said, ‘I love you, and I wish you enough.’

They kissed and the daughter left. The father walked over to the window where I was seated. I tried not to intrude on his privacy, but I could not refrain from asking:
‘When you were saying good-bye, I heard you say, ‘I wish you enough.’ May I ask what that means?’

He began to smile. ‘That’s a wish that has been handed down from other generations. My parents used to say it to everyone.’
He paused a moment and looked up as if trying to remember it in detail, and he smiled even more.
‘When we said, ‘I wish you enough,’ we were wanting the other person to have a life filled with just enough good things to sustain them.’
Then turning toward me, he shared the following as if he were reciting it from memory.

I wish you enough sun to keep your attitude bright no matter how gray the day may appear.

I wish you enough rain to appreciate the sun even more..

I wish you enough happiness to keep your spirit alive and everlasting.

I wish you enough pain so that even the smallest of joys in life may appear bigger.

I wish you enough gain to satisfy your wanting…
I wish you enough loss to appreciate all that you possess.

I wish you enough hellos to get you through the final good- bye.

Life Less

Triggered by the articles in Inquirer on the execution of three Filipinos abroad, further moved by this  blog article I caught myself shedding tears with a question creeping from within me: Why do people kill each other?

Really, I want to know why. I am aware of the laws and the reasons but why these laws and reasons? Have these really changed the way the world is supposed to be? Or is this even the way things should be?

Amidst an incessant flow of tears down my cheeks, I throw this question to God: Why?

Why Wislawa Szymborska?

Because I feel at home with her words
Not just because she prefers Dickens over Dostoyevsky

Because she says love plays its tricks on us
laughing on the sidewalk
letting lovers roam around
barely touching each other
yet almost there.

Because she says we have a soul at times
Oftentimes it wanders away
leaving us to contend with
the pushing of furniture
or cooking
and that in most times
we cannot count on it.

Inilabas ako ng Diyos kagabi

Diyan lang sa Tagaytay.

Nakapambahay lang akong damit, nakamaiksing shorts. Nakatulog na ko nang magtext si Ate Chona na tuloy ang random hang-out moment ng PYM sa Treats, Katipunan. Dahil malapit lang samin ang Treats e kinuha ko na lang ang blazer kong puti at nagmadaling ipinatong ito sa suot kong pink na blusa. Kinuha ko ang mga gamit ko sa office bag ko at inilipat sa isang puting bag. Hindi ko na nasimot ang laman at lakad-takbo akong pumunta sa pinaghihintayan sakin nina Ate Chona, Alvin, Oli, Krissy, at Gerald.

Pagdating ko sa Treats, di ko agad sila nakita. Dala ng biglaang paggising, hindi pa nakakondisyon ang utak ko, akala ko naalimpungatan lang ako o kaya ay pinaglalaruan lang nila ako na nasa venue na sila. Dyahe. Biglang nakita ko na si Oli kasunod si Alvin, at ang iba pa.

Nagkuwentuhan sa Treats. Nahati sa dalawang gender ang usapan. Paminsan-minsan nagagawan ng paraan na pag-isahin ang pinagdidiskusyunan. Pero nung humirit ako ng principle sa likod ng tina na nilalagay sa beke e, hinatulan akong panira ng pagkakaisa sa usapan. "Principle?", sabi ni Oli habang salubong ang kilay. Napangiti sina Alvin at Gerald. "Ok, sige, kayo na lang ulit ang mag-usap-usap," sabay guhit ng imaginary line sa pagitan ng mga lalaki at mga babae.

Maya-maya pa, tumayo si Oli. "Tagaytay tayo."

Mga ilang minuto pa nasa loob na kami ng sasakyan niya. Nagkukuwentuhan. Sa loob-loob ko, hindi ako naniniwalang doon kami pupunta. Si Oli kasi may pagka-unpredictable. Pero sa haba ng usapan namin tungkol sa kung anu-anong bagay sa buhay namin-- galing ng Diyos sa pag-arrange ng buhay namin, biyaya ng pagkakakilala namin sa pamamagitan ng PYM, sakit ng mga puso namin na tanggap naming hindi basta-basta mahihilom, mga pangarap at panaginip, mga sugat gawa ng pag-ibig, lovelife ng mga magulang, trabaho at PH Care, mga magagandang artistang babae, pagsali sa ACI, pagbabagong-buhay, babaeng mukhang anghel pero unstable, bulletin board ng PYM, venue ng JAM 4, hang-overs, nanay at tatay, PNPA, mga biglaang lakad-- nakarating kami sa Tagaytay.

Doon nilasap namin ang malamig na samyo ng hangin at binugos namin ang mga mata namin sa kislap ng mga ilaw ng Maynila sa ibaba at mga bituin ng kalangitan sa itaas. Pinuno namin ng mga halakhak at sigaw ang madilim na paligid.

Bumalik din kami sa Maynila. Nag-aalala ang ilan sa amin dahil malamang ay pagagalitan kami ng mga magulang namin. Hindi kasi kami nagpaalam. Hindi naman ako masyadong natakot dahil wala si Papa. Si Papa ang pulis ko at timing na nasa Pampanga siya.

Pag-uwi ko sa bahay, si Mama ang nagbukas ng pinto. "Ano'ng nangyari?" tanong niya. "Ma," sagot ko habang nakangiti, "nag-enjoy kami masyado, nakarating kami sa Tagaytay." Nagulat si Mama pero hindi siya nagalit. Kung di ako nagkakamali, parang naramdaman niya ang saya ko sa dagling pagtakas sa realidad. Pakiramdam ko bago ako matulog ay galing ako sa bagong playground/hide-out na natuklasan namin ng mga kaibigan ko, sa pamumuno ni Oli. Sa sobrang saya at antok, ni hindi ko na nagawang maghilamos o magpalit man lang ng damit.

Alam kong ganoon din ang pakiramdam ng mga kasama ko. Ganoon talaga ang pakiramdam kapag inilalabas ka ng Diyos.

Narito ang ilang mga larawan mula sa phone ni Ate Chona:

Walang iwanan at walang sukuan

Matatapos na naman pala ang Marso. Malapit na ang graduation ng kapatid kong BS Biology. Kagabi pinag-usapan namin ni Mama kung gaano nga naman kabilis ang paglipad ng oras. Tatlo na kaming nakakuha ng Baceholor Degrees.

Kung iisipin, napakapalad naming magkakapatid kasi talagang nagsumikap ang mga magulang namin para mapagtapos kami ng pag-aaral sa marangal na paraan. Hindi naman kasi mayaman sa materyal na bagay ang pamilya namin. Pero ang mga magulang ko, ubod ng yaman sa pananampalataya sa Diyos. Kung titingnan ang pinagmulan ng mga magulang ko simula nang buuhin nila ang pamilya namin, halos imposibleng isipin na makakapagpalaki sila ng anim ng anak at makapagpapalago ng mga pangarap sa loob ng dating entresuwelong tinirhan nila. Hangang-hanga ako sa kakayahan nilang magpalago ng mga pangarap sa kabila ng mga paghihirap.

Ngayong malapit nang mag-martsa ang pang-apat sa aming magkakapatid, nararamdaman ko ang saya bilang ate, at lalo na bilang anak ng mga magulang namin.

Malabong mabasa nila ang post na ito, dahil kung nag-oonline man sila ay sa Facebook o Youtube lang. Pero ipapaalam ko pa rin sa kanila na bilib ako sa walang hanggan nilang paniniwala sa mga pangarap namin.

Nasa gitna pa rin kami ng paglalakbay at mahaba pa ang natitirang daan, pero naririnig ko ang boses ni Papa habang naglalakad sa kalye ng buhay, "Walang iwanan at walang sukuan."

These days

This is my current desktop image. A reminder for me to keep on dreaming and creating. No holds barred.

A Certain Lady

Oh, I can smile for you, and tilt my head,
And drink your rushing words with eager lips,
And paint my mouth for you a fragrant red,
And trace your brows with tutored finger-tips.
When you rehearse your list of loves to me,
Oh, I can laugh and marvel, rapturous-eyed.
And you laugh back, nor can you ever see
The thousand little deaths my heart has died.
And you believe, so well I know my part,
That I am gay as morning, light as snow,
And all the straining things within my heart
You'll never know.

Oh, I can laugh and listen, when we meet,
And you bring tales of fresh adventurings, --
Of ladies delicately indiscreet,
Of lingering hands, and gently whispered things.
And you are pleased with me, and strive anew
To sing me sagas of your late delights.
Thus do you want me -- marveling, gay, and true,
Nor do you see my staring eyes of nights.
And when, in search of novelty, you stray,
Oh, I can kiss you blithely as you go ....
And what goes on, my love, while you're away,
You'll never know.

Dorothy Parker

Everyday is a poem

rumbling stomach
gushing tap water
frying eggs, steaming rice
feeding the brain with news
of quakes and tsunamis
and people being shot
here and there
walking on the way to work
clucking of the keyboard
finishing nothing
picking the phone
choosing which words to utter
filling the soul with a hole
laying down to sleep
everyday is a poem

Good morning, beautiful. How was your night?

Ang nakalipas na gabi ay gabi ng mga tanong. Binisita na naman ako ng mga di ko gustong bisita-- mga tanong na nangungulit, naghahanap ng sagot para sa kanilang kapayapaan. Sino ka na nga ulit? Ano'ng ginagawa mo ngayon? Bukas, ano'ng gagawin mo? Sigurado kang iyan ang gusto mong gawin? Sigurado kang iyan ang dapat mong gawin? At marami pang ibang makukulit na tanong.

Saan kaya sila nagpupunta kapag hindi ko sila nakikita? Natutulog din kaya sila?

Hindi kasi nila ako pinapatulog at biglaan din sila kung dumating. Walang pasabi. Hindi tuloy ako makapaghanda ng sagot. Kahit ang mga first-hand sources ko, hindi nila alam kung paano ako sasagutin, kasi sila man, ay may sariling mga tanong na kailangang sagutin.

Sinusubukan kong kumonsulta sa mga aklat paminsan-minsan pero puro suhestyon lang ang binibigay nila. Minsan, lalo pa nila akong nililito. Hindi ko na rin sila tinatapos basahin dahil pakiramdam ko pare-pareho sila ng sinasabi-- depende sa akin ang sagot. Binabalik rin nila sa akin ang responsibilidad.

Malaki ang eyebags ko ngayon kasi puyat ako. Natulog ako nang halos hatinggabi na kasi nakipagkuwentuhan ako sa mga kapatid ko, muli, para iwasan ang mga tanong. Palagay ko kapag nakita nilang busy ako, hindi na nila ko iistorbohin.

Kahit anong klase na lang ng pagka-busy, kahit busy-busy-han, pinapatulan ko, para lang maiwasan ang mga tanong.

Pero may mga gabi na natatalo nila ako. At siguro sa mga oras na ito, ngumingiti sila sa isiping sila pa rin ang nasa isip ko.


Parang sila ang kumakanta sa akin ngayon ng musikang ito...

Love at first hearing

I am indebted to Ilia for leading me to this song...




This song somehow reassures me of a certain certainty which I myself am uncertain of. I still believe though in the beauty of that uncertainty which Wislawa Szymborska wrote about.

A kid pissed off by her own hair

Ang paglalakad ay parang pagpasok sa Unibersidad

Ang paglalakad ay parang pagpasok sa Unibersidad. Magsisimula ka nang dahan-dahan hanggang makasabay ka na sa pagsulong ng paligid. Kagabi, natatakot pa akong maglakad kasi medyo gabi na pero wala naman akong choice kaya nagpatuloy akong maglakad hanggang sa bahay namin. 

Mga tatlumpong minuto rin ng lakaran iyon. Suot ko ang red heels ko pero kiber. Naubusan kasi ako ng baryang pambayad sa tricycle at minalas pang maubusan ng load kaya di na ako nakapagpasundo. Kung sabagay, gusto ko naman talaga ang paglalakad. 

Kaya naglakad nga ako. 

Medyo may kadiliman sa paliko-likong kalsada ng Balara Filters. Manilaw-nilaw ang liwanag mula sa iilang poste ng ilaw. May mga sasakyang dumadaan na nagpapawi ng kaba ko. Ang totoo hindi naman ako masyadong kinabahan dahil alam kong ligtas ang lugar namin. Doon na yata ako lumaki. Nakasanayan ko na ang bawat liko ng Balara Filtration Plant. Doon ako naglalaro tuwing hapon noong bata pa ako.

Habang naglalakad ay may nakasabay akong batang lalaki, nilapitan ko at nakipagkwentuhan ako. Nalaman kong 15 taong gulang na pala siya. Siya si Erwin Garcia. Nakatira sa Blk 2, sa gawing ibaba ng street namin. Hindi na siya nag-aaral kasi tinamad na daw siya. Habang daan nagkukuwento siya at ako din. Sabi niya ang sipag ko raw kasi hindi pa rin ako tumitigil sa pag-aaral samantalang siya ay tinatamad na daw.

Sabi ko baka magbago ang isip niya. Mahalaga ang may tinapos, sabi ko. Napatango lang si Erwin, parang nag-iisip.

Sana napaisip ko siya. Sana sa kanyang pag-iisip ay mapagtanto niyang maigi pa rin ang pagbabalik-eskwela.

Hindi lang iyon ang iisang beses na nakipagkuwentuhan ako sa kasabay kong maglakad na estranghero. Noon din, nakipagkwentuhan ako sa isang babaeng nakipaghiwalay sa asawa niyang binubugbog siya. Sa pamamagitan ng kwento niya, napatunayan niya sa akin na kaya ng babaeng labanan ang domestic violence kung gugustuhin niya.At naniniwala naman ako doon. Kaya nating bumangon mula sa kaapihan, mapababae o mapalalaki man.

Gusto ko pang maglakad muli. Naiisp ko kagabi pag-uwi ang konsepto ng Walking University. Isa akong estudyante ng paglalakad. At masaya ako sa isiping iyon. 

The 2 Beautiful Years of My Life

The title seems to propose that all the other years are not beautiful but actually, they too are but none is as beautiful as those 2 beautiful years. The others are wonderful, challenging, amazing, intellectually refreshing, spontaneous, free, but none is as beautiful.

I could not think any other better introduction but this:

Elbi was a dream come true. And when one's dream comes true, it carries with it the emergence of all that was beautiful. As if everything that happens trickles from that dream. It is exactly how I see my Elbi experience. 

A lifetime might not be long enough for those two beautiful years to line themselves in the linearity of my biography. If someone would write my biography, I wouldn't want her to write in chronology for that would underrate how much mystery and wonder every year holds. I want her to write in circles so that it would seem that my life, even ended, still happens, each beauty replicated in other lives, in other stories.

How I wish I could replicate my stories.

My Elbi stories. They started in 2003. No, even earlier, in 2001, when I first stepped on Elbi's grounds during a high school field trip. When I saw the trees and grasses of Freedom Park, when the bus drove along Pili Drive, I uttered loudly, "I'll go for college here." My high school barkada retorted that my parents wouldn't agree on it. They knew that my parents wanted me to enroll in Diliman. I extended my two arms upward and say, "This is where I want to be in college." They all smiled, unconvinced.

When I filled out my application form, I did it in hiding. I didn't ask Mama to check the data, as I would usually ask her to do. Then after about six months, I got a letter from UP. I passed in my first campus choice. My parents were half-happy.

I landed in Elbi. My first class, it was Philosophy 1. Prof. Scheherezade Ruivivar, taught us the essence of contemplating life.  What is falsity and what is truth? What is logical and what is absurd? What is life and how is it to die even as one breathes? She gave me my lowest ever grade in class because I confused October 7 with October 17. It was my first encounter with absurdity. And I wouldn't forget her for that.

In Elbi, I came upon many other professors and instructors, both old and young, learned and learning. I recall we had LTS lessons at the Bahay ng Pahingungod. Whenever I would go there, the jeepney I'm riding on would pass along D.L. Umali, the graden where a classmate claimed his parents made him, the Women's Dormitory, the Men's Dorm and finally the YMCA. Life then was scheduled perfectly at times but imperfect moments yielded more memories.

Like when I got absent from my Hum 1 class because of a morning fever. In the afternoon of that same day, I reported in my other classes. On my way towards one of my afternoon classes, I saw my Hum 1 instructor by the Hum steps, with a bluebook on his hand. By the time I reached the right side of the antique building, he was already walking towards me. He told me he had been looking for me inside Hum to give me my graded exam. He handed me the bluebook he was holding. He could have just waited for the next class session to give me my exam, but instead he looked for me. A touching sense of self-worth took over my fever. Teachers who care for students even beyond the classroom is an Elbi gift.

I met other professors who later on became very essential to my journey as a young adult. Their images, still vividly etched on my mind.

And more importantly, in Elbi I met friends. Friends or companions or accomplices. Whatever term fits, I met them there. And these friends, they stayed even after Elbi.

In Elbi, I learned and fell. I fell in love. Or did I? I don't know. I was too young to know. I was too young to even touch it. It flew. It was beautiful when it flew. It was painful, too.

Whenever I would get hurt in my games as a kid, Mama would give me apples. In college, Elbi gave me kapok fairies and macadamia nuts. A play would make me forget I almost failed a quiz. McDo would make me forget everything. 

But I won't forget how beautiful Elbi was. It was like its Hot Spring-- hot and springing. It was alive. Elbi. Elbi is yellow and green and white and orange and red. In my mind, I could paint it with my eyes closed. But I could hardly put the image into paper.

For how can one really express something that is beautiful? If you paint it, the colors would not be in the same gradients as you experienced it. If you write about it, words would be lacking. This effort to write? This is nothing compared to the beauty that was Elbi. 

Childhood places

This Eraserheads video was set in a place where I spent my days playing as a child.

I remember...
I used to run-walk on the same pavements.
In those rails, I hung from bar to bar. Yes, like a monkey! I reveled at the fact that my hands were strong enough to hold my then heavy weight.
Atop the terrace, I used to join my cousins as they went biking.
Baby Terrace's slopes served as the most daring slide in my then small world.

The swimming pool sequence reminds me of the days when Papa brought me to swimming for the first and I think, the last time. I can still recall that I was in a blue one-piece swimwear, sulking at the bland blue waters. I never learned how to swim.

Along the snaky road, I used to run, along with my childhood friends, Ricky, his brothers Bibang and Ichad, racing against tricycles! :)

Oh, and I used to dip my hands in the bottle fountain (which sadly isn't shown in the video)! There I would wait for the turtle to move, exasperated at its every movement. Only to realize that the movement was an illusion because later on I would know that the turtle is actually made of stone.

The whole setting is nostalgia. Take me back to those days!

Never shout NEVER.