My throat constricts as I think about the things that I have to do for the rest of April and the whole of May. After the case study writing stint with Foundation Z which was tiring but professionally enriching, I recently accepted a referred job documenting a Post-Ondoy and Post-Pepeng Monitoring Study funded by the Big Bad Bank. This will take me to field for three weeks straight which will actually be more hard-core than my previous ARMM assignment. The real catch is that I would have to turn in reports only one day after every five full days of FGDs and interviews. That means 3 reports in 3 weeks. How I am going to pull that off, I don't really know. I do know that it would entail Sting energy drinks and lots of internal heaving.
As of writing I still have to submit some work for one of my usual clients which Lai calls my sugar daddy--someone who gives me cash in advance for future intellectual favors. But that's just kinda sick to consider even for 5 seconds so I'm just gonna call him Data-entry Corp 2. Have to finish this by Monday.
Another thing which gives me the urge to whine like a baby is that I need to decide if I really want to submit my CV to the dark side -- well more like just the wet side. A former colleague recommended me to replace her as head of a community service/events coordination/publications head. Honestly, I am not keen on working there and handling people in a very politicized large corporation. But the adult part of me wants to just try it out for a while just to gain financial stability. They do, after all, pay well and my job would not be entirely soul-less.
My friends and family know that I do not particularly care about monetary rewards, even to a fault. The last 6 years of my working life as a social development worker, photographer, travel writer, social researcher etc has been enjoyable for me in the sense that I have experienced so many things, gone places, was exposed to the daily lives and issues of the common people in the country. I was able to know very inspiring people who, to no avail, have been convincing me to finally take an MA or diploma course in any field, pretty please (another blog topic altogether). But I never became wealthy. I never wanted to. I stayed afloat, lived within my means and just found richness in every experience I had.
But as days pass, I have come to admit that I cannot live like this forever. I need to bloat my savings for future endeavors or emergencies. My parents are tired and not growing any younger. If it weren't for my overly carefree attitude, I should have taken over a lot of things by now. Just a week ago, my Mom and Dad came by from the province for a couple of days to attend my brother's college graduation. They were driving for nearly 15 hours and before going to bed, my dad asked me to massage his back to which I willingly obliged. I remember how my brothers and I would walk through my parents' back as if we were traversing a pilapil when we were kids. It was a nightly ritual. Of course doing that now would break my dad's back so I just resorted to the usual rub. I was so surprised to find out how soft Dad's skin has become. Save for his smoking, Dad is never unhealthy. He eats well and plays tennis daily. Although on the thin side, he was very lithe and had six pack abs in his younger days. Now instead of being supple and leathery, his skin has just gone soft, like there was no flesh underneath, just skin, something else which felt like water and then bones. It was disconcerting. It felt like some mental disease has robbed me of precious years and I had missed out on important events in a loved one's life.
Still, I have apprehensions about doing an 8 to 5. My former colleague says she understands as, and I quote, "free spirits could never and should never be tied down." But I was reminded that there's gotta be more to life than frantic pleasure pursuits. I get that struggle is central in any human's being. More than ever, I am ready for a fistfight. But in order to take the blows and score some punches I first have to identify those for which I will be fighting. Maybe I should write them down and tape them in my daily line of vision, just like when I was 12 and I wholeheartedly believed and proved that nothing ever was impossible.
4.20.2011
4.16.2011
You know that feeling when you enter a place for the first time after a considerable while of avoiding it, you become tentative and unsure why you're there again? Well that is how I am now. I'm sort of looking around, feeling the energy of the space, deciding whether I should turn back or face the inevitability and importance of the situation. Because somehow I know that writing again is not only inescapable but also necessary if I want to be grounded again. Not grounded in the sense of a kiwi finally admitting to herself that her species doesn't fly but grounded like a swallow conserving fuel for an impending full migration.
Oh, poo. This is how taking a break from writing does to someone--a resort to lame-ass metaphors. At this stage I don't really care. I am only grateful I am typing this at all.
One of the main reasons I decided to scrap blogging indefinitely at the start of 2010 was so that I could have real face-to-face conversations with other people, especially those whom I consider special or at least are not afraid or don't get easily bored with my company--which automatically make them special! Also, I felt that I was withdrawing too much into myself that thoughts were lumpy, not being sifted and mixed with other ingredients (yup, metaphors). Few things give me much pleasure as having my ideas scrutinized, affirmed or lambasted directly.
To a degree, I succeeded. I met a lot of friends for catch-up sessions, short trips and errand-bonding but I could not bring myself fully into the moment. In hindsight, maybe it was because I wouldn't dare put into the open things which I did not have a good understanding of. I listened of course, but only listening halts the promise of a pithy interaction leading to a full-blown discourse into certain conditions of mankind. Not to make it sound like socio-babble but if you look closely, topics of concern of most people in whatever walk of life mostly relate to human nature and how to best utilize or manage it for the sake of maintaining or altering the existing social fabric.
I write in order to think. And since I did not write, I thought haphazardly and felt uncertain about so many things. There's a kind of uncertainty that exists after you've exhausted all efforts to solve that uncertainty. Then, you are certain that you are uncertain. But there is also the other kind which is uncertainty because you know you haven't thought about it at all. Then you are uncertain whether certainty can be reached, which is the worst uncertainty of all. This had me living like a zombie, just doing the bare minimum to survive: work, spend, cultivate a skill set, amass huge amounts of information, maintain a civilized demeanor, repeat from the beginning.
Suffice it to say, my goal of truly interacting with others was not fully reached. My realization, which I have reached through this mini experiment, is that one cannot engage in real mutually enriching relationships with others without first continually intra-acting, and i'm inventing words here. This means habitually engaging oneself in truth-seeking exercises (writing, in my case) to build certain conclusions ready to be presented to and validated by other people, the operative word being certain. For others, this is all elementary. But my personal pedagogy has always been experiential. I just had to go through this myself.
And this, my invisible friends, is how I convince myself to start writing again.
Oh, poo. This is how taking a break from writing does to someone--a resort to lame-ass metaphors. At this stage I don't really care. I am only grateful I am typing this at all.
One of the main reasons I decided to scrap blogging indefinitely at the start of 2010 was so that I could have real face-to-face conversations with other people, especially those whom I consider special or at least are not afraid or don't get easily bored with my company--which automatically make them special! Also, I felt that I was withdrawing too much into myself that thoughts were lumpy, not being sifted and mixed with other ingredients (yup, metaphors). Few things give me much pleasure as having my ideas scrutinized, affirmed or lambasted directly.
To a degree, I succeeded. I met a lot of friends for catch-up sessions, short trips and errand-bonding but I could not bring myself fully into the moment. In hindsight, maybe it was because I wouldn't dare put into the open things which I did not have a good understanding of. I listened of course, but only listening halts the promise of a pithy interaction leading to a full-blown discourse into certain conditions of mankind. Not to make it sound like socio-babble but if you look closely, topics of concern of most people in whatever walk of life mostly relate to human nature and how to best utilize or manage it for the sake of maintaining or altering the existing social fabric.
I write in order to think. And since I did not write, I thought haphazardly and felt uncertain about so many things. There's a kind of uncertainty that exists after you've exhausted all efforts to solve that uncertainty. Then, you are certain that you are uncertain. But there is also the other kind which is uncertainty because you know you haven't thought about it at all. Then you are uncertain whether certainty can be reached, which is the worst uncertainty of all. This had me living like a zombie, just doing the bare minimum to survive: work, spend, cultivate a skill set, amass huge amounts of information, maintain a civilized demeanor, repeat from the beginning.
Suffice it to say, my goal of truly interacting with others was not fully reached. My realization, which I have reached through this mini experiment, is that one cannot engage in real mutually enriching relationships with others without first continually intra-acting, and i'm inventing words here. This means habitually engaging oneself in truth-seeking exercises (writing, in my case) to build certain conclusions ready to be presented to and validated by other people, the operative word being certain. For others, this is all elementary. But my personal pedagogy has always been experiential. I just had to go through this myself.
And this, my invisible friends, is how I convince myself to start writing again.
4.12.2011
12.13.2010
12.10.2010
Not Easily
When we get beyond beauty and pleasure,
to the other side of the heart (but short
of the spirit), we are confused about what
to do next. It is too easy to say arriving
is enough. To pretend the music
of the mountain needs only to be heard.
That the dance is known by the dancing,
and the lasagne is realized by eating it.
Not in this place on the other side
of desire. We can swim in the Aegean,
but we can't take it home. A man finds
a melon by the road and continues up
the hill thinking it is the warm melon
that will remain after he has forgotten
the ruins and sea of the summer. He tells
himself this even as the idea of the taste
is replacing what the melon tasted like.
- Jack Gilbert
12.08.2010
12.06.2010
OH MY GOD. The National plays March 2011 within Cebupacific/PAL/Tiger Airways/Airphilippines BUDGET FLIGHT Radius!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! This is soooooooooooo dope!
12.05.2010
Recently, PDI published an article called "25 Things to do in the Philippines ... before fantasizing about other countries" . I'm done with 15. Okay, 10 technically because I did not pick strawberries in La Trinidad, I did not wakeboard in camsur, I did not go to Pampanga for the Sisig, I snorkeled not dove in Anilao and I was in CDO for work. Meh. The others have been in my bucket list for some time now. I'm planning to tick them all off by 2012. Who's with me?
11.30.2010
someday, i will also be shooting in heels
*this is a real life photographer not a model, mind you.
photo courtesy of thesartorialist.blogspot.com*
11.27.2010
11.25.2010
11.23.2010
A Kind of Burning
one way or the other
we keep this distance
closeness will tug as apart
in many directions
in absolute din
how we love the same
trivial pursuits and
insignificant gewgaws
spoken or inert
claw at the same straws
pore over the same jigsaws
trying to make heads or tails
you take the edges
i take the center
keeping fancy guard
loving beyond what is there
you sling at the stars
i bedeck the weeds
straining in song or
profanities towards some
fabled meeting apart
from what dreams read
and suns dismantle
we have been all the hapless
lovers in this wayward world
in almost all kinds of ways
except we never really meet
but for this kind of burning.
By Ophelia Dimalanta, 1934-2010
11.14.2010
11.01.2010
Las Turistas Tontas Status Log #8
Despite its efficiency and affluence and technological advancement, Singapore is not arrogant nor self-lauding. Instead, Singapore to me is like a responsible adolescent with well-groomed hair that I just want to scruff up all the time. I want to introduce him to all things fun even if they are sometimes improper. I feel he has a lot to learn if he just lets loose. However, spending time with him also forces me to question myself. Did this kid get it right and all along I was wrong? Is efficiency and and maximum productivity the best way to live? On the plane ride home, I think this over and I decide Singapore did a very big mistake to be who he is today. What happened to wonder, to chance, to truths to be discovered by opening yourself up to chaotic magical surprises? Nevertheless, I still respect him for his principles and decisions. I will never be compatible with Singapore the country. I can never live there. But it doesn't mean I cannot meet him once in a while to learn a thing or two and to be able to realize that no, despite its many flaws, I can never not love the Philippines more.
Despite its efficiency and affluence and technological advancement, Singapore is not arrogant nor self-lauding. Instead, Singapore to me is like a responsible adolescent with well-groomed hair that I just want to scruff up all the time. I want to introduce him to all things fun even if they are sometimes improper. I feel he has a lot to learn if he just lets loose. However, spending time with him also forces me to question myself. Did this kid get it right and all along I was wrong? Is efficiency and and maximum productivity the best way to live? On the plane ride home, I think this over and I decide Singapore did a very big mistake to be who he is today. What happened to wonder, to chance, to truths to be discovered by opening yourself up to chaotic magical surprises? Nevertheless, I still respect him for his principles and decisions. I will never be compatible with Singapore the country. I can never live there. But it doesn't mean I cannot meet him once in a while to learn a thing or two and to be able to realize that no, despite its many flaws, I can never not love the Philippines more.
Las Turistas Tontas Status Log #7:
Our last day in Singapore turned out to be the third to the last. Before we went out, Majen and I discovered we had our departure dates wrong and missed our flight. We just had to live up to our self-imposed titles, hadn't we? How more tonta can you get than that?! Anyway, while Majen was semi-panicking, I just sat at the edge of Kathy's bed and told her to text Kathy. We talked her over our options and im'd Milan and Toni who helped us call our airline from the Philippines. I did not know whether to congratulate or whack myself for my lack of reaction. It either means I had grace under pressure or I just don't care about anything at all. We considered our options -- to stay one more week, save 50% of the ticket home and spend the saved 50% on food and other essentials, or pay the total of 100% and be in Manila in 2 days. I chose the latter. I would not be able stand Singapore with nothing to do in 5 days. Someone would have to restrain me as I might do more stupid things. Besides, I have an early morning plane to catch Nov. 1 for Tuguegarao. Majen can stay longer because she brought work with her but she also opted to fly with me, she says she's afraid she might throw herself out Kathy's window without me there.
So spilled milk on the floor, we waited for Kathy and went to IKEA. The place is a wonderland. IKEA is my candy store! I planned to buy this beautiful cutlery set for 45 SGD but opted to buy just one sample spoon from the As-is section. Also bought a Filicia throw rug and a work lamp. Of course we could not bring home furniture so we just inspected everything at the showroom and made believe.
The following two days we just killed some time: Continued snooping at Singaporean newspapers (the front page news of the day: 5 SPORTS STUDENTS EXPELLED FOR SMOKING), went to the Leica store at Raffles Hotel, spent Halloween at the Asian Civilizations Museum and wasted 1.5 hours lining up for 1 5 minute un-scary fright show--by far the scam of the decade. Finally did a courtesy call to Lolo Merlion and basked in the glow of the famed Singaporean city lights after eating at the real Makansutra where everything you turn, you hear a group of Filipinos chatting like it was just Divisoria. The Satay was good, too bad no Laksa.
While walking cross the lighted riverside path where hundreds of kids in costumes line up along a bar equivalent to the then Embassy, I was asking Kathy and Majen whether they have experienced being drawn to tears upon the sight of something beautiful like a landscape. They said they haven't. I have, I admitted despite predicting laughs and jeers--one time ago in a beach in Batangas. I was walking along a deserted cove then with my friends hundreds of meters away resting in the siesta heat. I just could not contain myself at the beauty of it all and teared up. How funny, I tell them, all these man-made grandeur, although overwhelming for most, does not elicit anything in me. I recognize all the human innovation and skill put into all these, all the planning involved, all the organizing skills, the science, the engineering. But I felt nothing staring at it. I was a bit bothered.
Perhaps the most fun Majen and I had, except for the zoo and the International Photo Festival respectively, is the quiet times at Kathy's place in Kembangan and meals at Hawker 110, our neighborhood hawker center. Majen loved the iced lemon tea.
Our last day in Singapore turned out to be the third to the last. Before we went out, Majen and I discovered we had our departure dates wrong and missed our flight. We just had to live up to our self-imposed titles, hadn't we? How more tonta can you get than that?! Anyway, while Majen was semi-panicking, I just sat at the edge of Kathy's bed and told her to text Kathy. We talked her over our options and im'd Milan and Toni who helped us call our airline from the Philippines. I did not know whether to congratulate or whack myself for my lack of reaction. It either means I had grace under pressure or I just don't care about anything at all. We considered our options -- to stay one more week, save 50% of the ticket home and spend the saved 50% on food and other essentials, or pay the total of 100% and be in Manila in 2 days. I chose the latter. I would not be able stand Singapore with nothing to do in 5 days. Someone would have to restrain me as I might do more stupid things. Besides, I have an early morning plane to catch Nov. 1 for Tuguegarao. Majen can stay longer because she brought work with her but she also opted to fly with me, she says she's afraid she might throw herself out Kathy's window without me there.
So spilled milk on the floor, we waited for Kathy and went to IKEA. The place is a wonderland. IKEA is my candy store! I planned to buy this beautiful cutlery set for 45 SGD but opted to buy just one sample spoon from the As-is section. Also bought a Filicia throw rug and a work lamp. Of course we could not bring home furniture so we just inspected everything at the showroom and made believe.
The following two days we just killed some time: Continued snooping at Singaporean newspapers (the front page news of the day: 5 SPORTS STUDENTS EXPELLED FOR SMOKING), went to the Leica store at Raffles Hotel, spent Halloween at the Asian Civilizations Museum and wasted 1.5 hours lining up for 1 5 minute un-scary fright show--by far the scam of the decade. Finally did a courtesy call to Lolo Merlion and basked in the glow of the famed Singaporean city lights after eating at the real Makansutra where everything you turn, you hear a group of Filipinos chatting like it was just Divisoria. The Satay was good, too bad no Laksa.
While walking cross the lighted riverside path where hundreds of kids in costumes line up along a bar equivalent to the then Embassy, I was asking Kathy and Majen whether they have experienced being drawn to tears upon the sight of something beautiful like a landscape. They said they haven't. I have, I admitted despite predicting laughs and jeers--one time ago in a beach in Batangas. I was walking along a deserted cove then with my friends hundreds of meters away resting in the siesta heat. I just could not contain myself at the beauty of it all and teared up. How funny, I tell them, all these man-made grandeur, although overwhelming for most, does not elicit anything in me. I recognize all the human innovation and skill put into all these, all the planning involved, all the organizing skills, the science, the engineering. But I felt nothing staring at it. I was a bit bothered.
Perhaps the most fun Majen and I had, except for the zoo and the International Photo Festival respectively, is the quiet times at Kathy's place in Kembangan and meals at Hawker 110, our neighborhood hawker center. Majen loved the iced lemon tea.
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