Im going to Palawan tomorrow to help shoot another video documentary. It's going to be a heavy week of field work but I'm excited to be traveling on my own again. I'm looking forward to waiting for my boarding time at the airport, sitting by the lounge, coffee, uhm but no, i don't intend to have a pre-departure smoke. I do not want to stink in the plane aside from the fact that I have been two weeks nicotine free! Ok, ok. There was that one stick when I was trying to write that darn script.

Dreamt about an ex some nights ago. This man would haunt me, consume me and kill me over and over. I don't care. I can now conquer him--something I wasn't able to do when he left.

***

I wrote this for the Philippine Literature site. My editor-friend asked me to submit something on gender lit so there.

coming home

with the two of us naked, standing bare
on this cold, tiled floor
face to face,
chests heaving, our nipples taut and firm—
i kiss your closed eyes
and my tongue traces wherever your tears flow:

somewhere in the planes of your mind,
a memory flickers; a memory of opening doors,
of entering rooms, opening doors again
and then finally closing them.

you raise your hands, my palms on yours
the countries of your skin welcoming me,
a stranger discovering, finding her way home.

let me look at you now, tonight:

your hair's no longer tangled seaweeds shored
that speak of mermaids drowning, of lost ships,
of sinking bodies crying in gulps of air;

your eyes, your eyes are two black moons
rising full, rising full;

let me look at you now, tonight.

let me taste milk flowing down your thighs,
vanilla on your skin--let me in, let me in

as i look at you now,
oh let me look at you now, tonight,
let me cradle your sadness
with my hands and then wash them away;
let my mouth bathe every scab, every scar
on each fold of your skin.

let me look at you now, tonight:
let me take you--wife, child, lover--
let me take you home.

Wanted for Immediate Hiring: Tintin's muse

My muse, my muse, come here and save me please.

Thing is, I can't write here in the office. It's too cold, too many people tick-tacking on their keyboards, too many phones ringing at the same time, I just can't, can't write.

Too many excuses.

I can see from between slats of the "tora-tora propellers"/blinds of my window: blue-gray sky, trees (yes, there are trees in my view) swaying. I want to go out. I want to go to the Sunken Garden like I always did whenever I needed to think, back when I was in grad school and stayed in Ayala Heights.

My deadline is tomorrow. It's a video documentary script. I already have one but I have to overhaul it.

I think I'll go for a smoke.And coffee.Free office coffee.

Tintin Manang Driver

What if I got a professional driver's license and drive my own taxi?

The manong driver I talked to yesterday said the "boundary" is PhP1,500. He earns 800 or more on good days. 800 the least. That's, uhm, more than 20k right?

But I'll buy a pepper spray first (for would-be hold-uppers), a map,a car charger, and those dogs whose heads bob up and down.

Gahhhd. Kailangan ko nang magsulaaaaat.

Flatter than flat broke

I can't afford to buy myself a salad from a fastfood joint. I have been feeling bloated for days already and I do need to go on a pseudo-diet. But what teh heck, I can't even afford to choose what to eat because I simply have to make do with what's available at home and bring it with me. But this morning, nobody cooked. I got a couple of Ziplock bags from the cupboard and stuffed them with all the chocolate chip cookies from the jar. I munched on them for breakfast and will do so again for lunch. I forgot to bring my tumbler for some milk.

Really. My ATM's begging for mercy so I can't count on it. I searched through all the pockets and seams of my bags to look for coins or bills that could have been stashed in. No dinero though;but there were leftover Orbit Spearmint sugarless gum, crumbs of my favorite Granny Goose Tortillos cheese, Starbucks receipts, paper clips, chopsticks and drinkinh straws.

Later when I get home, I'll start again with my pants and skirts for "pockets of surprises".

Oh by the way, Tere gave me 1 grand. Cool. My little sister can now feed me. I'll quit work and put up my feet now :p Thanks sis.

Giddiyap

Mama and I met up yesterday in one of the dingiest malls in Manila.She wanted to treat me to dinner and coffee and some shopping,too. Oh well. We should have gone some place else.

She took me home riding a calesa. We passed through Jone's and Ayala bridges,Escolta and Binondo. Through the ride the cochero would whip the poor horse and it would halt or skid too suddenly and my heart jumps with it.Grabe, I could have died with fright.

Riding vehicles that's supposed to be enclosed but is not, brings out my acro/agora phobia. It's weird because I ride bikes. I used to drive a Honda XRM and can handle a Vespa Nexus but when riding something like, say, a Wrangler or plain owner type jeep,my heart just prepares to explode. The calesa was not an exception. It also didn't help that I'm scared of horses.

But being with my mom felt like nothing will go wrong so while my fingers hurt with clutching the calesa's hand rail too tightly, it didn't matter anymore. Mama was there with me.

I can dig this...





but this?

Intsik

"Intsik, halika". I would often hear them call her. The men in my neighborhood wore sandos usually holed and frayed at the edges, the lower half of it folded up revealing their potbellies. They converged by Mang Derek's store, sitting on the wooden bench the Kabataang Barangay solicited money for. On seemingly lucky days, beer bottles would be rolling by their tsinelas-clad feet. Mostly though, they would drink gin bilog and chase it with water taken from Barangay 4's poso. Sometimes on luckier days, they would call Intsik and she would be sitting with them, fanning herself with her skirt, the heat always tremendously scorching for her to bear...

Mama said we should not play with her, with Intsik. She was not allowed in the house more so. Mama said Intsik took money from our neighbors and from people in the streets. Why didn't she go to jail, I asked.

Oh yes she did go to jail every time she got caught, Mama said. But the police liked her too much especially Capt. Guzman.

I have been to Intsik's house in Barangay 4. She lived with Lisa, her older sister and Aling Trina, their mother. Aling Trina did our laundry in the summer when Yaya goes home to Dipolog for her vacation. Aling Trina had never gone to a vacation, she told me while I was bathing my Barbie in the planggana. But she had been on a ship before, when she was younger and her dentures new. Aling Trina said her uncle took her to a cruise around Asia. They were on the ship for a whole month. She loved the food, she said. And dressing up, putting on perfume and make-up. Her uncle bought her clothes for when the Chinese captain of the ship held dinners and invited his guests.

That was how I got to play with Intsik every Saturday in summer. Mama would ask me to fetch Aling Trina from their house and I would stay behind to play with Intsik.

Her real name was Rosanna, she said. Their neighbors called her Intsik because of her eyes and porcelain skin. You have beautiful China eyes, I told her. Intsik just smiled.

She didn't have toys like I did. We used the lids of milk cans for plates, the bottle of Clorox for our pitcher and their Nescafe glasses. We ate with our hands. I wanted to bring my tea set but Mama wouldn't let me take them out of the house. She said my playmates would just steal them.

When Mama found out I had been staying in Intsik's house, she blamed Aling Trina for talking me into it. Mama said Aling Trina owed our family a lot and that they could not afford to pay it up. Mama was screaming the whole time. Aling Trina just looked at her gnarled hands. Mama also said Aling Trina is a whore who pimps her own daughter.

I never saw Aling Trina in our house again after that. The men in Mang Derek'ss store said they had moved into a house in a subdivision in Cavite. They also told me Intsik likes policemen more than jeepney drivers...


- excerpt, Intsik, an unfinished story.

It's so noisy inside me. I have to quit procrastinating and write everyday. Putting words in black and white ought to quiet me down. Words should contain me. Now, I am having trouble catching up with my thoughts again. Again writing is my answer, except that I should have done so days ago, and write each and everyday.

I am not exactly happy nor sad. This in-betweeness is a phase I always go through. Nothing new.

Paranoia is also creeping up. Then again, my intuitions do not normally fail me. In fact, it has never did particularly when it comes to relationships.

I think Kulas is changing--if he hasn't yet, that is. Kulas doesn't tell me where he is during the day,unlike before. He doesn't seem to care,too, if I tell him I'll be out with friends or that I am already with them without letting him know first. He doesn't text me iloveyou's and the usual sappy lines that would normally be sweet because he's thinking of me. In fact, he tells me he loves me only when it's time to say good night and that is because probably it doesn't feel right if he doesn't tell me he loves me before he sleeps. It's probably the routine-breaking that's shaking me. Routines, however predictable, are comforting. Like two wrinkled hands clasped.

He's twenty years older than I am and I dont expect him to be gooey-sweet to me. It's just that Kulas is a 45 year old boy and I have learned to love both the boy and the man...

He's also very busy these days. With his job hanging, he's keeping himself busy with his marine products business. He's been talking to bar/restaurant owners, hotel people, the like. He's also with his business partners the whole day. He picks me up from work and takes me home though. That is mainly what remains to be the same.

So am I suspecting something here?

I honestly dont know. We've been together for almost two years--the first year being really turbulent times. What I do know though, is that he keeps in touch with his exes and other women in his past--or they do.

Sometimes I don't care anymore. If he's keeping a girlfriend somewhere, or flirting around, I'm sure I'm bound to know. And when I do, I know what to do.

***

My phone alerts and there's a message from Kulas. He tells me he loves me.

Hmmm. Now the above post makes me a paranoid,insecure bitch.Aaargh.

***

Just yesterday, we had a fight about me being so mistrusting. If I told him, he made me this way, hell would break loose I'm sure.

***

TJ and Papa talked on the phone last Saturday. The last time they did was twelve years ago. Imagine the pain, the sadness, the regrets. Two men cried and hoped in their hearts, both love each other despite everything.

***

Tere and I have been arguing a lot lately. We keep on snapping at each other. Mostly it's about her job, her clothes, my clothes,her derma allowance from me, just about everything. To think, we dont get to spend time with each other that much anymore.

(By the way, she works for Mt. Malarayat. If you want to invest on real estate that's hip and yuppie-ish, drop me a line and I'll tell her.)

My sister is my best friend and my worst enemy. Stories of our past fights would tell you that.

***

This didnt turn out to be the hopeful entry I was expecting it to be. And I have been writing in truncated sentences for quite sometime now. It's discomfiting. I need to go back to school,merge into circles again and write and paint. Be the old Tintin.

***

By the way, I'm AWOL now. What do I do? Anyone from UP Grad School here? :)

***

I am helping out with the creativity projects of the kids from Jesus loves the Little Children Foundation through Mads. This will be another project for Our House, the kids' creativity center I put up. Im excited. Volunteers are welcome. :)

you know i love you

I went to work with a quiet heart. The truth is, I have so many things to think about: my mom's love problems (yep, my mom's and she's 49), work, Ninang's health, my brother's baby (I'm going to be an aunt in eight months),and a lot of other miscellaneous things.

I have learned not to think about things when they're not yet jumping up and down my lap. So even if I know I'll be broke till the next pay day and till some clients pay up whatever they owe me, I do not care. It's not also because it's too tiring to care or too sickening to worry. I just don't. Life turns good in the end because no matter how strongly we bitch about it, life is good.

***

I dreamt that my friend Shawie has given birth to twins and I was the only one with her in the hospital. This morning she called to tell me she's seven weeks pregnant.

I texted Kulas I wish I'd have babies soon. Now, there goes a rule out of your Cosmo. Wasn't I scared that it would drive Kulas scared to his butt?

No. In fact, if he showed the littlest sign of rejecting the idea of having babies soon, I would start thinking of ways to have mine--alone. Immaculate conception, here I come.

But anyway, Kulas and I are planning to get married next year--no killer-proposal though. I doubt if that would happen. I have asked for an engagement car, or an engagement condo, or even an engagement I-book. Cool, isn't it? I never liked wearing rings anyway.

My brother TJ is now a dad. Sad thing is, his situation is too complicated. Too complex, in fact, for me to blog about. The only thing I regret is that he didnt prepare for it. (Now I really don't like his girlfriend--people and family say she's bad news. But it's my bro's choice, still).

Then last night, my mom smsd that Big Kuya might be cheating on her. Well, she thinks he is, and their neighbors can attest to it. I told her to talk to him and get out of it if things dont get settled. My mom has sacrificed a lot already for the guy.

And then Ninang told us over dinner last night that her chemo doesnt seem to be working for her. Her tumor didnt change a bit after three chemo sessions. I think we need to look for another doctor even if her oncologist is her fourth already. We can't take any chances. Stage 3 of lung cancer isn't a joke at all.

Yesterday was Tatay's third death anniversary. I miss him.

If I didnt know better, I would think that these things are karma. The categorically common Catholic would say, "parusa yan ng Diyos" (God's punishment). I dont think so.

I believe that my God is a loving, merciful and forgiving God. He will never hurt me or those I love.

But let's not get into that.

***
taken from Naya's blog

Michelle Pfeiffer's character in White Oleander: "You're doing it again. You're attaching yourself to someone who shows you the least bit of attention, because you're lonely."

I have been guilty of this for so many times I deserve the death penalty. Hurting one's self is a crime.

Im back from Cavite. Work was quite overwhelming and it's bound to be so for the succeeding months. I dont feel like writing now; just want to do something before Kulas and I leave for Greenhills to watch Harry Potter. We were actually there earlier, after he fetched me from the office at four. We bought tickets at five p.m., I think, but we got seats for the 9:40pm screening. Went around the tiangge--nothing new. Went up to Shoppesville and got myself two perfect pairs of cotton pants in light blue and beige.

We're now here at Kulas' house, had dinner, Kulas taking a nap, me blogging away.

While in Greenhills, I got an SMS from Ninang saying my mom was in the hospital. I called my mom immediately and was relieved to hear her voice at the end of the line. She just had high BP, she said, but she's fine and Big Kuya's with her. I told her to ask Big Kuya to call me anytime if they need help. I hope Mama's feeling better now.

It's Tere's first week as a corporate girl. She works for Citibank as one of their Marketing chuchubel--hehe, make that chuchubelle. She'd kill me if she reads this. She's been getting calls from different companies still,and I think she really doesn't want to stay in Citibank.Whatever she decides, I'm so damn proud my little sister has a job already.

This is already a pretty lengthy post. And I said Im tamad to blog huh.

Im reading Oates' Ugly Girl,Big Mouth. Ang galing ng voice ng story. Ang husay ng pasok ng main characters. Im trying to read it slowly so I won't finish it yet.

Kulas and I will have a business meeting tomorrow . Funny namin, we could have discussed things earlier but we're waiting till tomorrow because we want it to be "serious". Haha. Meaning no lovey-doveys. Strictly business and coffee. Like real money-oriented individuals. Hehe.

Will it work? Being business partners with your lover/boyfriend/fiance?

Hmmm. I'll find out.

That's it. Off to Greenhills.

Im rushing through this one. The bus is supposed to leave for Cavite in a few minutes. The workshop in Sariaya was probably one of the best the Project has organized. The resource persons (Joey Ayala and Pauline Salvana-Bautista), food, venue,and company were all good. The beach was just a few steps from our room.

Working with Joey A. and Pauline were cool. That will be another post entirely.

Conversations with colleagues during that five-day stay were quite fruitful in that I was made to realize things about my career or the lack of it :p I have plans now--all life-altering. It's scary when you think about it, but again that will be another post.

Oh and I kinda splurged in Young Adult Lit last week. I got "The Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants" by A. Brashares, Joyce Carol Oates' "Big Mouth, Ugly Girl" , Lille Bose's "Una and Miguel" and "Little Altars" by the author of the Yaya Sisterhood (forgot the name). I need some light reading that's fun and entertaining and colorful, and guess what, I got all of that and more :) Im looking forward to getting Melvin Burgess' "Lady: My Life as a Bitch".

Projects are brewing up. I just hope I could manage my time better.

Be back Friday. Have fun y'all!