I'm leaving for La Union and Pangasinan tomorrow to do preliminary work on a video documentary I and the team are working on. Field work is always refreshing especially when you get to talk to the people in the communities we support, the fisherfolk always have their own--pardon the pun--sea of stories to tell.

I'm glad to be out of the office for a whole week. I need to breathe. I think the stress is catching up on me. I've been having headaches even when I'm asleep and when I wake up. The pain though is just on the right part of my head; makes me think I'm developing a tumor of sorts. My shoulders and back are killing me too. Scoliosis attack.

I hardly smile these days too. I miss it.

Count your blessings, Mama told me last night. I told her I'm having a hard time doing so because my life now is determined by the eight hours I have to stay in the office each day. Eight hours. By the time I get home, there are only a few hours left before I go to bed and dread the eight hours the following day.

It's like this everyday, Mama, I told her.

Then be thankful you have the other sixteen hours to yourself: to drive home with Kulas, eat with us your family, pick up that novel you've been meaning to read, drink your milk, shower, sleep, to dream and wake up the following morning, she said. That's sixteen hours outside your office, anak. Be thankful. It's not that bad when you think about it really really hard.

Then the stubborn, rebellious part of me would insist, no, it is that bad. You don't understand, you'll never know how it feels to be trapped. That part of me would scream and tear my hair out, snap at people, wallow in self-pity and anger. That part of me would be ugly and would lose my smile because I refuse to accept things and move on inspite of.

And so, I don't know. Mama's right I know. Maybe I just need to be a little bit braver and stronger than I really am. Maybe I just need to feed my monsters right. Or unleash them.

***

My brother's wedding went well. The dinner was held in our house. We should have opted for a hotel or restaurant though. Decorating the house was exhausting. We rushed everything: bought fresh flowers from Dangwa Thursday morning, rushed to Divisoria for scented candles and yards of organza cloth, and supervised everyone in putting up a banquet table.

The newlyweds and the guests arrived at the house at around six p.m. and I, together with relatives who were left at home, welcomed them, blowing bubbles and showering them with flower petals and bigas. Borgy did an excellent job with the flowers and the staircase. The house looked so regal and I almost wanted to get married then. Tatay and Nanay would have been proud of us. When people arrived though, I was still all madungis in my capris and polo shirt with my hair in a bun.

***

My Japanese Sister

It's Ayvi's birthday today. We used to tell people when we were still in Silliman grad school that we were sisters--only that her father's Japanese and mine's Chinese.

I tried to reach her through her mobile phone and at work but couldn't get to talk to her. She's been silent for months. I haven't seen even my inaanak Isis for quite a while now. I miss my best friend, kindred soul, keeper of my monsters, Japanese sister, moon goddess...

Happy birthday, Ayvi. I know you're just there and I miss you.


***

When you're on your knees you're closer to the ground. Things seem nearer somehow.

- Tori Amos, Introduction to "Death: The High Cost of Living"


Isn't she just right?