Old and still untitled but i swear ill continue this

If you really want to know about it, you’ll probably want to hear about where I was born, and what my privileged childhood was like, and how my parents were such good parents.  But I’d rather not start the conventional way.  For one thing, conventional is boring.  And for another thing, the details of my pre-adult life aren’t telenovela material anyway.  So let’s fast forward to something I actually want to tell you about.  Let’s fast forward to about six months after college, when I finally start to feel a stirring in my soul, so to speak.

Where I want to start telling is the day I was walking towards the LRT Edsa-Taft train station and I found out that trains were indefinitely suspended because of a fire that happened near the Libertad stop.  You probably read about it on the newspapers.  It was probably the second or third fire in that area in a span of just two or three months.  Unbelievable.  I couldn’t believe how that area could be so fire-prone, and I couldn’t believe that I had to take a jeep all the way to Vito Cruz.  This was just the second leg of three of my daily journey to work, and I was looking forward to the strong, refreshing air-conditioning and the people-less-ness of the train.

While in the aircon-less, people-ful jeepney, I was wondering why I accepted the job at the Senate in the first place.  I mean, one of the reasons why I chose to study in Ateneo despite all my high school friends going to La Salle, was that I didn’t have to see Taft Avenue everyday.  I didn’t have to endure the unpleasant odor, the unbearable traffic, and the sheer ugliness of it.  Ambience was always very important to me, and the Jesuits’ campus and its surrounding area had a more study-conducive appeal.  Little did I know that four years later, I would find myself everyday treading the very road I abhorred because it was en route to work. 

To answer the question about working at the Senate: it was the first job offer.  But ‘first’ wouldn’t exactly be accurate because it was only thing I applied for.  So I wasn’t really waiting for any other offers at that time.  It was the only thing I applied for because even if college was drawing to a close, I purposely put myself in a state of denial about it.  I didn’t join the horde of fellow students rushing to have their CV’s photocopied 100 times so they could submit these to each and every booth in the first wave of job fairs at school in November of our senior year.  I didn’t go to the resume-writing tutorials and the mock job interview sessions offered by the guidance office in December either.  And in January, I wasn’t one of those going from building to building in Ortigas Center and/or Makati, dropping off CV’s at every floor that had ‘HR’ on it.  Yes, so you could say that I was really buried deep in denial.  But it wasn’t really so much that I feared having to work.  Being nonchalant was more of a defense mechanism because I did not get into law school.

I forgot to tell you about that little detail.  Sometimes, when you would rather forget about something, chances are, you actually do.  It’s a futile attempt everyone does to get something undone.  But since I’m being honest with you and since you can’t really undo anything that has already happened, yes, I did not get into the one and only law school I applied for.  The University of the Philippines says that my undergraduate grades were not good enough.  At 21 years old, I felt my world shatter.  Disappointment and regret began to sink in as flashbacks of the parties and instances of youthful abandon played through my mind.  Law school was supposed to be vindication for my less than serious attitude towards academics in college, and now that it was off the plate, I felt lost.

Come February, I had finally gotten over the denial-which-was-really-bitterness phase, and it dawned on me that considering that graduation was one month away, maybe not applying for a job was not exactly a good thing.  So I made my resume and browsed through my cell phone contacts list, wondering if there was anyone I could send my resume to who could help me.  Then I the number of my former Political Science professor who was only teaching part time because his day job was at the Senate.  I remember he gave me an A, and thought he must still remember me and be kind enough to refer me to his boss.  So I emailed him my resume, and a few weeks later, I found out that I got the job. 

The funny thing about all these is that I actually landed a job before those people who went to job fairs, mock interviews, and the Ortigas and Makati offices did.  I guess everything – choosing Ateneo, failing UP Law – they happened for a reason.  But I can’t help wondering if I did the right thing.  If I happened not to do one of those things, if I altered just one step, would the outcome have been the same?  Would I still have been in that aircon-less, people-ful jeepney to Vito Cruz then? Or would I have been in a better job?  Or maybeworse?  Anyway, that was what I was thinking about at that time.  The jeepney ride was a long one.

When I got to Vito Cruz, the Indian-looking girl was already there with a big smile on her face.  That was a first, she being there ahead of me, hence the big smile.  It’s a daily thing we have meeting for a cup of coffee at Starbucks Taft before the final stretch of the travel to work, and she always, always arrived 30-45 minutes after the designated time.  Goddamn the fire at Libertad, my record had been broken.  Andrea, that’s her name, was someone I considered a friend aside from being just a colleague.  We instantly clicked when we met on our first day of work 6 months back coz she liked to smoke, drink, and read books.  We also found the same things funny.  And what better foundation is there to begin a friendship than common vices, pastimes, and a sense of humor?

But we always got into arguments.  Maybe it’s because we’re together all day, everyday on weekdays, that our friendship semi-regularly starved for an argument.  I remember a day I was picking on her love for poetry.  I was prodding her to give me a concrete reason why she loved it so much.  She was educated at the Philippine Science High School, then she took up Environmental Science in Ateneo, then she went to Japan on a scholarship for post-grad studies in Chemistry.  Typical nerd.  So wasn’t reading and writing poems uncharacteristic of the stereotype she ought to embody?  So one day I was pestering her for a satisfactory answer and I told her no, ‘Simply because!’ wouldn’t be satisfactory.  And this was simply because ‘Simply because!’ was what you said when you didn’t know what else to say.

You wouldn’t believe how she answered me.  She quoted a poet in response to my question.  As Marianne Moore said, she explained, “Poetry is ‘a place for the genuine.’  It’s a place for ‘hands that can grasp, eyes that can dilate, and hair that can rise if it must’” Jesus Christ.  My mouth hung open for a few seconds after she said that.  I was shocked because of two things.  First, I admired her ability to effortlessly quote a poem verbatim.  Secondly, I was debating with myself inwardly if that was a satisfactory answer.  ‘A place for the genuine’ yeah, right; that wasn’t even a genuine answer from her precisely because it wasn’t hers!  Sadly, I still believe that

poetry isn’t anything

but a bunch of

            cut up

lines.

--------------------

One good thing about being a lowly positioned employee in the government is that filing for a leave of absence is hassle-free.  Absolutely hassle-free.  You see, my mom had invited me to tag along on her business trip to Prague.  Since we had enough airline mileage to cover my airfare, all I had to do was get a green light from work.  And when I asked my boss for permission to be gone for ten days, all he said was, “No problem, just make sure someone else does your work while you’re not here.”  And when I asked a colleague to cover for me in my absence, all he said was, “No problem, just make sure you take a lot of pictures.”  Amazing.  You have to hand it to these people. You have to hand it to the system.  Can you imagine if it were this easy to take a break from school where the teacher would say, “No problem, just make sure someone else does your homework while you’re not here?”  That’s student nirvana right there.

But the problem about getting comfortable about anything is getting too comfortable about it.  That’s what I was thinking of on the way to the airport.  What if when I get back, I regularly arrive at work after lunch?  That would save me lunch money and the rush hour commute.  What if I don’t go to work at all if I don’t feel like it?  What if I go to the beach if I wanted to, and just make sure someone else did my work for me while I take pictures of the sea?  Now that’s an interestingly tempting thought.  In my mind, I was the most corrupt person alive. 

Since my mom was in Prague for business, I was to go around city alone, which was fine with me.  And so armed with a subway map, some cash, and a great sense of adventure, I set out.  Now the first thing you would be astonished about Prague is the fact that their subway stations don’t have turnstiles.  All they had were ticket-reading machines that would stamp your ticket with your time of entry.  You paid a certain amount for a ticket that was good for the first 20 minutes including all transfers.  If your travel time goes over that, you buy another ticket.  But then you didn’t actually have to buy the tickets to get on the trains because all you had to do was walk past the machines!  But the people there bought tickets.  Unbelievable how theirs is a mature society for that system to survive.  And considering that they’re just getting back on their feet from Communism, you’d think the Czechs would have loads of trapped activism inside them.  But no, most everyone there was honest and rule abiding.  Imagine trying that out in the Philippines.  The Metro Rail Transit (MRT) and Light Rail Transit (LRT) would go bankrupt in a day or two, tops.  I’m not kidding.

The hours seemed to pass by quickly in what they call the ‘land of a hundred spires.’  I call it the ‘land of déjà-vus.’  A turn on the road, and you’d be confronted by an alley, another turn, and you’ll be trapped by a cul-de-sac, then before you know it, you’d seem to be right smack where you began.  And you probably are.  It’s so easy to get lost, but you won’t be pissed one bit because everything is just so beautiful.  Prague is a microcosm of European fantasy.  It’s the perfect mixture of Baroque boldness and Gothic gloom.  In spite of its demented spires and towers, you’ll feel like you’re living a childhood dream.  As you walk on its cobbled stone streets, looking for that famous hole-in-a-wall bar, it’s as if you’ve been time-warped into the 12^th century.  And as you make your way up what they call Petrin Hill, admiring the foliage, you’d be lured to the top as though by a distant sound of music, bringing out the Julie Andrews in you.  The hills are alive with the sound of music, with songs they have sung for a thousand years…

Of all the wonderful places I went to during my 10 days there, that was what really had me, Petrin Hill.  Since the funicular was under repair, I had to endure the one-kilometer uphill climb.  On my way up, I was like Tereza in Unbearable Lightness of Being, who ‘paused several times to look back.’  Just like her, I saw ‘the towers and bridges, and the saints shaking their fists and lifting their stone eyes to the clouds.’  But unlike Tereza, I wasn’t going to the top knowing I was meant to die; I was hiking up and feeling as though I was born again and was meant to live for years and years.  I felt invincible and immortal.  I felt I could do anything I wanted to do from then on.  Seeing the whole city fit into one frame, I never thought I would see such splendor with my own eyes.  Pictures could never do it justice.  You should’ve been there. It really was the most beautiful city in the world.  I wanted to just sit there and never leave. 

But I had to leave because it was getting dark, and I wanted to get some alcohol into my system.  I chanced upon a pub called Bar and Books.  It was the most sophisticated bar I’ve ever been to in my life.  With its interior decorated in rich leather and dark wood, complemented with book-lined walls, it made me feel rich and smart.  It’s the kind of place where people probably talked about philosophy or history or literature, and where they come up with world-changing ideas while enjoying the finer things in life.  It’s a venue for epiphany and luxury, a setting for fiery debate.  But it’s the drinks that make it in that place.  It had a vast range of wines and whiskies and cocktails.  Too bad it cost an arm and a leg, though.  So after one glass of whisky, I left and looked for a cheaper alternative.

Prague was definitely literary heaven.  As I walked through the students’ side of town, I saw writerly cafes and poetry reading pubs.  If Andrea had been there, her eyes would have ‘dilated,’ her hair would’ve ‘risen,’ and she would’ve died.  And you should’ve seen how they enshrined Kafka.  There was a Kafka Street, a Kafka Square, a Kafka museum, and even a Kafka walking tour.  It was amazing.  Even if I didn’t like Kafka, I found the way they paid homage to him so amazing.  You can’t help feeling how great of a guy he must’ve been.  It made me wonder why we didn’t have that stuff for our Nick Joaquin.  I guess Mr. Joaquin was right when he wrote that ours was a ‘heritage of smallness,’ a ‘tingi society.’  Our very own street vendors, who are content with selling cigarettes one stick at a time, reflect our culture as a people adverse to anything big and lasting.  We never did anything more for Nick Joaquin after giving him a kick-ass funeral.   My younger brothers don’t even know him at all.  And no offense to Mr. Joaquin, but do you know of any Filipino writer who has written a novel?  And I mean a real novel: long, solid, and arresting like say Anna Karenina or War and Peace or Gone With The Wind?  Probably not because there’s probably none.  All we have are short stories, novelettes, and poems.

Anyway, so I ended up in a cheap pub at that part of town.  Drinking alone made me realize how fun it was to be my own company; back home, I almost never had myself to myself.  With no one to talk to, I decided to people-watch.  Have you ever tried people watching?  You should, it’s amusing!  I observed a couple fighting and in my mind, I was making up their conversation.  You’re having an affair with that girl aren’t you?  Admit it!  No I am not, she’s just a friend!  Then, when I got bored with that, I started thinking.  Of the plan.  College. Check. Work. Check. Car.  Will be checked when I get my bonus in December.  What’s next?  Post grad studies?  But in what, and where?  I am not sure about the what yet, but the where would definitely be in Europe.  Not in Prague though, or in any non-English speaking country.  But wherever it is, it must be beautiful. Then, just as I was to take another sip from my glass, this guy on the next table comes over.

Sprichst du Deutsch? Big smile.

No, do you speak English?

Shakes head.  Raises his glass.  Hahaha, prost!

Smiles.  Raises my glass.  Hahaha, cheers!

I thought he would leave after that, but he didn’t.  He just sat there smiling at me.  He wasn’t bad looking at all.  And it was my first time to have an actual person with bluish greenish eyes so close to me.  Such beautiful eyes.  I wondered if it changed color during the day or something.  Then it got a little awkward after about 30 seconds so I finished my drink, gestured my goodbyes, and left.  (Un)fortunate how the language barrier has saved me from getting picked up.  It would’ve made a good story though, me getting picked up by a German guy on my last night in Prague. 

When I was on the plane back to Manila, I didn’t feel like I was really on it.  It’s this thing about me and goodbyes.  I don’t actually feel the leaving – me leaving a place, me leaving someone, or someone leaving me – during the actual leaving process.  Then when it sinks in after some time, I feel worse than depressed.  I feel worse than depressed because I believe that every parting experience deserves a proper goodbye, an apt confrontation of emotions, an acceptance of reality.  Not the numbness I was feeling on that plane.  Anyway, I felt I needed to do a proper goodbye to Prague because I don’t know if I’m ever gonna have an opportunity to go back again.  So I wanted to write about it.  I was thinking of doing some sort of memoir, with every single place I’ve been to in it.  That way, it would serve as both a goodbye and a remembering.  But I couldn’t get started on it because all I was thinking was: How to write. How to write.  How to write pretty.  I read a friend’s essay and I find it beautiful.  I read past works of mine and I find them corny, insignificant, boring.  So I ended up writing nothing and drinking a gazillion glasses of wine to fall asleep throughout the flight.  Upon landing, I was picked up at the airport by my brother and boyfriend. 


February 2009

OMFG

Said my boss when I told him I was resigning to get my MBA at the University of Edinburgh in September:

"Edinburgh! You're running away, that's what you're really doing. You want to try to fend for yourself because that experience is foreign to you. You want to get out of your comfort zone, live far from home, away from your parents. That will do you good in terms of soul searching...finding out who you are. But it will do nothing for your career advancement. I know this is not the best job in the world but at least its work...its the real world. Studying is not"

ohmygod right? OMFG.

The yellow coliseum

24th anniversary of the EDSA Revolution
Araneta Coliseum
February 25, 2010

After seven years

Seven years ago

After seven years

My take on Noynoy

It has been said that Senator Benigno “Noynoy” Aquino III’s strongest selling point as a candidate for president is his integrity. People who know him or know of him will vouch to their graves that Noynoy will never lie and steal, unlike the people recently and currently in office. He will not lie and steal because he has no need to and because he simply isn’t engineered that way. After all, he is born to one of the wealthiest families in the country, and his parents are Ninoy and Cory Aquino.

The death of his mother last year reminded the people and made them nostalgic of what Cory had fought for, what Ninoy had died for, and what the country had once had: a government that was - to the best of its abilities - truly democratic, honest, and clean. This led to the people clamoring for Noynoy to run for president and his image of unwavering integrity has translated into a hope for genuine change. Five months ago, when he decided to run, the nostalgia and hope materialized into something concrete: it became a movement.

With the Cory fever on his side, and his character at the fore, he garnered up to as much as 60% in the initial surveys. This was achieved without jingles, ads, or speeches. This was achieved with nothing.

But now, three months before the elections, surveys show that Noynoy and Manny Villar are locked in a statistical tie with Noynoy at 37% and Villar at 35%, as the first choice of respondents for president. What happened?

1. I think that the hope, though made concrete, is not concrete enough. Noynoy’s campaign is wracked by factionalism. Strategies are not aligned, his supporters are scattered and from different backgrounds, and they do pretty much their own thing. Today, Noynoy recognizes this and formally tells the newspapers, “I just realized that there is not one person who is directing the show so I’ve decided to take the direct hand…” [also I heard tonight that the Noy people have moved today into a single headquarters..that should significantly improve the way the organisation is run right?]

2. There really is a dire lack of public awareness about his campaign. Noynoy has many genuine supporters, but they’re simply in the dark of what is happening. Formal campaign season began this month and Noynoy’s kick off rally in Metro Manila was held last February 13 in Tondo. This was the kick off rally of the front-runner, in the country’s capital. You would expect tens upon thousands of people gathered with uncontained excitement. But apparently, there were no more than 20,000, and there was no excitement. People seemed to be there hoping for free food and a chance to get a glimpse of Vilma Santos. No one gave a shit about Noynoy and many people left before he even spoke.

3. The Liberal Party is obviously sporting an “every man for himself” attitude, and this is detrimental to Noynoy's presidential campaign. In the kick off at Tondo, prominent Liberal Party hopefuls were there except Mar Roxas (Noynoy’s running mate at that!). The 12 candidates for senator each spoke for about five minutes, except Ralph Recto who spoke for almost 30 minutes because he was buying time for his wife, celebrity Vilma Santos, who was late, to make an appearance and end his spiel with a bang. Pathetic. Not right. And it appeared as if Noynoy was just another guy in the LP, running for just another post…and not the presidency. Pathetic. Not right. At all. These Liberal party people should shove it down their heads that ultimately, the goal is for Noynoy to become president. All other ambitions are secondary and even irrelevant.

4. Noynoy’s platform / advocacies are unclear. Think Angara, and Agriculture, Education, and most recently, Science & Technology come to mind. Think Legarda, and Environment comes to mind. Think Pia Cayetano, and Health comes to mind. Think Noynoy Aquino and what comes to mind? Cory and Ninoy. He is the son of two heroes; that is his privilege and his burden. And because his record speaks weakly of what he has already accomplished, it will be doubly difficult for him to get out of the parental shadow and make his own merit shine.

5. The Cory fever is fading and it seems that integrity may not be enough for the win. Granted that the trust and belief of a voter in a candidate’s character cannot be bought (though this is doubtable especially for the lower classes), can this trust and belief in Noynoy be sustainably imbedded in the hearts of Filipinos until Election Day to deliver the votes? Sadly, we Filipinos are a forgetful people. We support the “in” in the “now.” And now, with the bombardment of advertisements, it is Manny Villar who is in our faces.

But will I vote for Noynoy? YES.

I honestly think we should cut him some slack. Less than half a year ago, he was a non-candidate and had no desire to run. We, the people, were the ones that clamored for him. Also, he is incredibly inexperienced in this whole national elections thing. When he accepted the offer to run, he gave permission to be thrown into the wolves. Whereas his opponents have been planning and campaigning for about a year or two, he only has had only five months into the game.

Finally, despite all his “shortcomings,” I think we must remember and cling to the origins of his campaign. The campaign is a campaign for genuine change and Noynoy is merely a symbol; he’s the guy who holds the torch of reform and promise. But real change will not come from him alone. Change is too big a thing for one person and must be a team effort. This being said, it is of utmost importance that the leader is one with integrity, one who will appoint cabinet members with integrity, one who will oversee that the law is upheld and implemented by people with integrity. And it is of equal essence that the next president be a true bastion of democracy. And I bet Noynoy, just like his mother, will not be consumed by power, and will not run again after his term – as should a good president.

Also, realistically speaking, it’s just Noynoy vs Villar now...with all other candidates inconsequential. And I think people should pick Noynoy over a guy who makes such a big deal about his humble roots and envisions himself a model for the poor to rise above the ashes and become a multi-millionaire…yet remaining silent on how he’ll actually help the poor. Come to think of it, Villar is also silent about all the allegations against him. He’s silent during debates, too, and was pretty much silent (or absent) during the tail end of his term as senator...you simple cant trust people like that. Lotsa bad stuff brewing in their minds.

So anyway, please, Noy, get your game on! Pull a rabbit out of your hat if you have to. Because you might very well have to. For your country’s sake.

Everything's gonna be alright

Detroit, USA

Vancouver, Canada

London, England


A picture is indeed worth a thousand words.
(I love google images!)

Fringe Benefits

I have just re-read J.K. Rowling's 2008 commencement speech at Harvard entitled The Fringe Benefits of Failure and the Importance of Imagination. Reading it now, I find it inspiring and...appropriate. Two years may have expired since my own graduation, but for some reason, I still feel like I'm standing on the threshold of something big. Or are we always on the threshold of something? 


Anyway, the lines that struck me the most are -

There is an expiry date on blaming your parents for steering you in the wrong direction; the moment you are old enough to take the wheel, responsibility lies with you.

Failure meant a stripping away of the inessential.

Rock bottom became the solid foundation on which I rebuilt my life.

Some failure in life is inevitable. It is impossible to live without failing at something, unless you live so cautiously that you might as well not have lived at all – in which case, you fail by default.

You will never truly know yourself, or the strength of your relationships, until both have been tested by adversity.

Life is difficult, and complicated, and beyond anyone’s total control, and the humility to know that will enable you to survive its vicissitudes.

Imagination is not only the uniquely human capacity to envision that which is not... it is the power that enables us to empathise with humans whose experiences we have never shared.

.