My name is MICO

The World Is A Small Ocean (Series 1)

2011-08-28T23:49:00.000+08:00

Life has given me bitter-sweet memories that I would carry for the rest of my life. Death will always be a poignant reminder of the things that could have been but have not. Tears are the only weapon I cling on to. Putting back into pieces what I once had is a painful step. Things haven't been easy and life for me has always been a struggle between sadness and optimism. I don't consider it a baggage. Not even as a burden. It has made me whole and empty.

I cannot deny that fact. It has been too prevalent in me. Too obvious not to be seen nor felt. Too loud not to be heard. But then again, all I have are memories. Nothing more. Nothing less.

Sometimes people come to our lives for a reason. They come. They go. And even fate can’t stop them. I have had my bitter share of all these in my lifetime. You never get what you want unless you take it. But people don’t belong to people forever. That is the sad reality. No matter how much we stop it from happening, it will.

Looking back, I have people I am very much indebted to – people who have, in one way or another, molded and honed me of who I am now – for the best and worst. They will never be forgotten. This will be a series of random thoughts and bitter rantings – an endless reminder that YOU, in a way, contributed in my life.

The world is a small ocean - too small for a big fish like me.

I am where I am now because of you. You have always discouraged me because you thought I was too good for you. I used to believe that. I don’t know if I still do. You have made me feel shitty of me not pursuing a medical course and made me think that music is the life I should live. You made me think that a life of a musician and artist won’t be enough to feed a hungry mouth. I thought so too before. Things are different now. I remember that time when I promised myself that one day you’ll be happy for me too. Now, years after we both said goodbye, I hoped to have you back. But no matter what I do, you’re too good for me. Since then, you always caught me off guard. Every time I move closer, you start to drift further away. It was painful. It still is. I am angered by the thought that I know you are always there – a silent spectator of my life. I have long wanted to hear from you. But you have turned deaf-mute to me. I would not expect anything anymore. You have made my life colorful and with that I am very much thankful.

I Sing Once More

2011-08-06T03:50:00.002+08:00

Sometimes, people come to our lives for a reason - to break us into pieces so that we could learn how to be whole again, to make us thread on the angst of pain in order for us to smile once more. Painful but in a way true.

They always come uninvited at your lowest, raise you to heaven and let you fall into the dungeons of sadness. It's as if it fate has purposely written it on our palms and meant to be left that way. And we allow them to come into our lives hoping that they will make our darker days a little brighter. We build our hopes again. We begin to smile. "Everything will be fine now," we say to ourselves. Days start to become optimistic with us ignoring the storm that awaits us. They do make our being whole again - but only for a short span of time. But the scar they have left will be etched eternally to our souls and being.

Sleepless nights still come knocking on my door and would inevitably sit beside me. It has become my companion all these years and I have freely embraced it. For the last four years of me writing, pain and tears had brought out the best in me. It has been the melody of my soul and some were unsung and left unheard. It has become the entity of who I am now. My past still haunts me - full of regrets and wishful thinking - of "what-ifs" and "what-could-have-beens." Many questions still waiting for answers and wounds left open waiting to be healed.

A lot has happened that were left unwritten. Sometimes I get to think that it is better to be alone - no hurts, no tears. Year after year, those memories get more vivid and clear. And it pierces my heart again and again. It still makes tears well on my eyes. Slowly, uncertainties and anger cloak my heart. I have ached down to my core and allowed it to stay with me for long a time. I have celebrated life with scorn and pain - faking every smile and killing every little bit of optimism there is left.

Time ran dry and dreams were broken - never to be whole again. "If I could only turn back time." But that will never happen again.

And I missed playing the melody of my life. I want to hear it sung again. And let it fly one more time.

I Will Not Falter

2011-06-09T02:47:00.000+08:00

I have been too silent for a long time. My thoughts have slumbered by itself unwilling to sprout. My words have been muted by certain circumstances that stop me from telling everyone how I feel about the world. I have been too scared to open myself again. Too scared to trust. My heart is fragile like any other glass slowly being tipped off and worn out by time.

I have thrown myself in a place where everything is new not thinking too much of the consequences that lay ahead me. I have been too stubborn and that has led me here where I am now. I missed home and the people I love. I missed doing the things I love to do - reading a book or two, giggling about silly nothings, crying my worries out until my eyes swell, fooling around with our dog, cooking my favorite food and even eating a simple meal with the person so dear to me. I missed all of those.

Now I am in a foreign land. And I know that this will surely be a long journey. But I will not fail. I will not falter.

I Write Again

2010-12-17T22:56:00.002+08:00

My thoughts have been muted for so long.

I was in the background.

Watching from afar.

Kept silent.

Standing still.

Keeping my words waiting to burst.

With all these, I write again.

TexT ni XanDeR

2010-08-03T09:57:00.005+08:00

'Yon ang unang pagkakataong nasabi kong mahal ko si Xander. Hindi nya sukat-akalaing totohanan ang sa akin. Buti na nga lang at nandun din si Fatima nung mga araw na 'yon. Ganun pa man, may kabiguan ang aking nararamdaman.

"Kailangan kong ilihis ang aking nararamdaman sa mga bagay na mas kinakailangan ang panahon at atensyon ko," pakonswelo de bobo ko sa aking sarili.

Hanggang ligaw-tingin, halik sa hangin na lang ako - pasulyap-sulyap na lang sa maamong mukha ni Xander at naghahangad na mahalin siya.

"Ang bobo ko," sabay sapok sa aking noo. "Buti na lang umiba bigla ang usapan. Punyeta! Nakakahiya."

Hindi ko na muna pinansin ang aking damdamin sa takot na masaktan. Pilit kong ibinaon sa limot ang lahat ng nasabi ko kay Xander noong araw na 'yon. Parang nakaka-ilang. Nakakahiya. Pilit man itong pumiglas, dapat itong supilin.

Papatapos na ang semester at mas naging malapit kaming tatlo sa isa't-isa. Hindi maiiwasang magtampuha't mag-away. Nakakatuwang isipin, parang mga batang nasa elementarya lang kami 'pag kami ay nagtatampuhan. Ang mas maganda lang, mas nikikilala namin ang aming mga sarili at hindi namin hinahayaang matapos ang araw na hindi nagkakabati. Kung nagkakaroon ng problema, palagi kaming nagtutulong-tulong upang malutas ang aming suliranin.

"Finals na sa susunod na linggo," bakat sa mukha ni Fatima ang pag-aalala sabay kamot sa kanyang ulo.
"Oh, ba't kamot-ulo ka? May problema ba?" pangiting tanong ni Xander kay Fatima.
"Naku, nag-aalala 'yan dahil finals na eh hanggan ngayon eh 'di pa din niya natatapos 'yung term paper niya sa Pol Sci," ang tanging naisagot ko.
"Ah ganun ba? Naku madali lang 'yon. Andito naman kami ah, di ba Mico?" akbay sa aking balikat.
"Ah, eh, oo naman Fatima. Tutulungan ka namin," mangaligkig kong sagot.
"Salamat ha. 'Yaan n'yo, ili-libre ko na lang kayo ng isang galong sorbetes. Ok na ba 'yon?" nakayuko pa din si Fatima, kamot-ulo ang loka.
"Oh siya, kita na lang tayo mamaya sa apartment. Fatima, yung sorbetes ha?"

Tumakbo si Fatima pauwi sa bahay nila para kunin ang kanyang mga gamit. At siguro, para bumili na rin ng sorbetes na ipinangako niya.

"Oh tara na buddy, sabay ka na sa akin sa apartment," sabay ngiti't pisil sa aking pisngi.
"Shit! Ba't nya ginawa 'yon?!" napaisip ako. "Wala akong dalang damit pangtulog eh. Uwi na muna ako sa amin para makapagpaalam na din ako kay nanay."
"Ah ganun ba? Oh siya, sige buddy, ingat ka. Hatid na kita?"
"Ay naku buddy, huwag na. Baka makita mo pa ang bahay namin na parang tirahan ng kuwago."
"Ikaw ang bahala. Ingat ka buddy!"
"Sige. Kita na lang tayo sa inyo. Text kita 'pag papunta na ako."

Mag-isa akong naglakad pauwi noong hapong iyon. Naging malaking palaisipan para sa akin ang ginawang pagkurot ni Xander sa aking pisngi. O baka naman malisyoso lang talaga ako. Bahala na.

"Nay, andito na po 'ko." papasok na ako ng bahay ng biglang tumunog ang celfon ko.

"Ingat ka buddy ha? Mahal din kita!" text ni Xander.

itutuloy...

mAhaL ka ni FaTimA

2010-07-27T00:29:00.007+08:00

"Uy Xander," sabay ngiti habang si Fatima tili ng tili't kurot sa aking braso.
"Di ba kaklase kita sa Physics?"
"Ay oo. Ba't mo naman naitanong?"
"I love you Xander!" singit naman nang lokang si Fatima.

Napangiti ang mokong.

"Ay, nga pala, si Fatima, bestfriend ko."
"Hello Fatima. Nice meeting you," magalang si Xander.
"I love you too Xander," sagot ng ilusyonadang si Fatima.
"Nakakatuwa naman ang kaibigan mo."
"Naku! Pagpasensyahan mo na ang isang 'yan. Wala lang talagang magawa."

Katahimikan.

"Ay, ano nga pala sadya mo?" para ibahin ang usapan.
"Ay oo. Yung tungkol dun sa sinabi ng titser natin sa Physics," napa-isip.
"Na?"

"Pupwede ba kitang makapartner?"

"Ha?" natameme ako't lumakas lalo ang kabog ng aking dibdib. "Papunta nga sana kami ni Fatima sa registrar para pachange ng iskedyul. Conflict kasi yun sa major ko."
"Uy h'wag naman. Kasi..." kamot-ulo si Xander.

Ikalawang linggo pa lang ng pasukan noon. Kinailangan kong palitan ang iskedyul ng Physics subject ko dahil baka ma-extend na naman ako ng isang taon. Mahirap maghanap ng pera lalo na't hindi kami mayaman.

"Kasi parang ikaw lang yung mapagkakatiwalaan ko sa mga kaklase natin eh."

Bang! Hindi ko mawari kung ano ang dapat kong damdamin - kung kikiligin ba ako or dapat magtaka. Sa dinami dami ba naman ng tao sa unibersidad, ba't ako pa?

Doon nag-umpisa ang pagiging malapit na kaibigan namin ni Xander. Lumago ang pagkakaibigan namin. Halos araw-araw kaming nagkakasamang tatlo nina Xander at Fatima. Sabay kaming kumain. At kung sino man ang nahuhuli, kinakailangang antayin. Paminsan-minsan nga eh doon na din kami nagpapalipas ng gabi sa apartment ni Xander. Habang nag-aaral eh itong si Fatima, eto namang si Xander ay walang sawang kinikiliti ako. Nakakataba ng puso kung iisipin. Masarap sa pakiramdam. Yung parang iyong-iyo siya, wala kang kaagaw sa atensyon at oras. Magaan sa loob ko ang makitang nakangiti ang isang katulad ni Xander. Ganoon pa man, may pag-aalinglangan ang puso sa pagkakaibigang ito. Unti-unting kinakain ang pagkakaibigang aking nakasanayan at dahan-dahang napapalitan ng pagmamahal. Kahit anong pilit pigilan, lalong pumipiglas ang aking nararamdaman. Lalaki ako. Lalaki si Xander. Boom! Realidad. Bumabalik sa aking isipan ang mga salitang BAWAL at MAKASALANAN - suliranin ng isang kagaya ko. Huminto ang mundo.

Pauwi na kaming tatlo noon - si Fatima, ako, at si Xander - nang biglang

"Uy napano ka?!" takot na tanong ni Fatima
"Alam ba nilang bakla ako?" napa-isip ako't nakatulala. "Matatanggap kaya ako nina ama't ina, ni Fatima? Paano 'pag malaman ni Xander? Maiinis pa siya? Iiwas? O magiging masaya kasi naging totoo ako sa aking sarili?" isa-isang pumapasok ang mga ganyang bagay sa aking isipan.
"Hoy buddy! Ang lalim ng iniisip natin ah." Kutya ni Xander.
"Hoy! Emotera ka talaga! Baka madapa ka n'yan ha," patawang sinabi ni Fatima.
"Ha? Eh. Wala 'to. May iniisip lang."
"Ano 'yon buddy?"
"Mahal kita."
"Mahal ka namin ni Fatima, buddy!"

Punyeta! Bigo!

itutuloy...

si XanDeR

2010-07-20T13:29:00.002+08:00

"Ang gwapo talaga n'ya!" sabay kurot ng kaklase kong si Fatima sa aking braso.
"Aray! Ano ba!"
"Si Xander!"
"Ha?! Sino'ng Xander?!"
"Si Xander my love. Yung Campus Crush! Oh my god!"
"Oist, baka tamaan ka ng kidlat jan!"
"Bilis, lumingon ka!"
"Ha? Ano ba?! Bakit naman?" Pilit akong pinalingon ni Fatima sabay hawak sa aking leeg.

Si Xander, kaklase ko sa Physics.

Ipinanganak si Xander na mayaman - malayo sa kinagisnan kong buhay. Siya ang tipo na mapapalingon ka't mabibighani sa taglay ng kagwapuhan. Maamo ang mukha. Parang anghel. Parang nakakatakot hawakan o lapitan man lang. Kahit daplis eh parang hindi ko magawa. Patingin-tingin na lang.

Napigilan ako. Natameme. Habang ang gagang si Fatima ay tumitili't tumatalon, sumasabay ang kabog ng aking dibdib sa kanyang ginagawa.

"Naku, akala ko kung sino," tanging nasabi ko. Deny.
"Asus! Sobra ka naman! Akala mo kung sino kang gwapo." Ang lokaret ino-okray ako.
"Sama mo naman makapagsalita!"
"'Di nga.."
"Eh totoo naman ah. Mas maraming pogi dun sa kabilang department o. Kung tutuusin nga eh mas gwapo ang tatay ko dun."
"Hmp! Panget ka!"
"Aba! Mas panget ka!"

Napigilan si Fatima. Napa-isip. Nakasimangot. Nagtatampo siguro sa akin.

"O s'ya, h'wag ka nang magtampo."
"He! Tumahimik ka!"
"Oo na, gwapo na ung Xander my loves mo."
"Talaga?!" Napangiti ang gaga. Sabay tili at lundag.

"Oo. Gwapo s'ya." Napa-isip ako.

Papunta kami sa opisina ng registrar para palitan ang iskedyul ng klase ko nung nangyari yun. Hindi batid ni Fatima na nagustuhan ko si Xander. Bawal kase yun dahil lumaki ako sa isang relehiyosong pamilya. Kung iisipin, baka dumeresto pa ang kaluluwa ko sa impyerno. Isa pa, tanging ako lang inaasahan ng inay sa aming magkakapatid. Bawal ang bakla sa pamilya. Napigilan ako. Natulala.

"Excuse me," si Xander.

Kinabahan ako.

Itutuloy...

anG PuNo nG mAnGGa

2010-07-11T02:08:00.000+08:00

Noong labing-walong taong gulang pa lang ako, sariwa pa sa aking alaala na masaya kaming naninirahan ng aking ama't ina sa isang bahay sa tapat ng isang malaking puno ng mangga. Abot tanaw ng aking mga mata ang napakagandang biyaya ng kalikasan. Animo'y tirahan ng mga anghel sa langit, parang isang paraiso. Taglay ng bawat halaman ang kasiyahan na binibigay ng haring araw. Nakikipagsayawan ang mga paru-paro sa ganda ng mga bulaklak at ang malamig na ihip ng hangin ay dahan-dahang hinihipan ang mga dahon ng puno. Ang lilim nito ay nagsisilbing pahingahan sa mga naggagandahang ibon. Ito ang buhay na kinalakihan ko. Isang buhay na payak.

Lumaki akong kontento sa mga bagay na ipinagkaloob sa akin ng Poong Maykapal. Hindi ako lumaki sa luho ng tao at ng mundo. Naging masaya ang aking kabataan kahit binalot ito nang mga katanungan hindi masagut-sagot nang kahit sinong nilalang. Ganoon pa man, hindi ko hinayaan na ito'y maging hadlang sa kasiyahang aking tinamasa. At dahil doon, nagsimula ang aking paglalakbay sa paghanap sa kapalarang itinalaga ng Pnaginoon para sa akin.

"Nay, pasok na po ako."
"Pagpalain ka nawa ng Diyos."
"Salamat po!"
"H'wag mong kalilimutang magpunas ng pawis. Baka matuyo 'yan sa likod mo."
"Opo, Inay."

Ang nanay ang isa sa mga mapagkalingang tao na nakilala ko sa aking tanang buhay. Ang pag-aarugang kanyang ipinakita ay ang naging gabay ko sa aking paglaki. Alam ko na lahat ng iyon ang sapat na upang mamuhay kami ng masaya kahit na ang pagsasama namin bilang isang pamilya ay paminsan-minsan ding dinadaanan ng unos. Hindi man naging madali ang aming paglalakbay sa liku-liko't lubak-lubak ng kalsada ng buhay, naging matatag kami. Hindi ko maipagkakaila na ako din, bilang isang hamak na tao, anbg napapagod din. Sa mga panahong iyon, ipinapaalahanan ako ng langit na ang lahat ng ito'y malalagpasan din.

"Kahit ibon ma'y napapagod din," pumasok sa isip ko.
"Ngunit patuloy din silang lumilipad at nabubuhay."

Napagisip-isip ko na ang aking mga pag-aalinlangan ay unti-unting nawala at pilit itong napapalitan ng kagalaka't katiyakan. Inaamin kong may mga pag-aalinglangan pa din ako dahil alam ko na ang landas na aking tinatahak ay walang kasiguruhan. Iyon ang nagpapabagabak sa aking pagkatao. Dahil doon, naghahanap ang puso't pagkatao ko ng kalinga - isang bagay na hindi ko mawari kung ano.

Doon ko nakilala si Xander.

Itutuloy...

aWakEninG

2010-07-09T18:55:00.002+08:00

I have always wanted to have a brighter future - with all of my dreams coming true and all things I ever wished for would fall into place. I have been a child so optimistic about all these for so long. Often times, I go forward. I get amazed by what I see around me. It makes my feelings go galloping like horses not wanting to be tamed. I am bewildered because everything happens so fast. So fast that I don't know where I am and eventually, the downfall comes, I get stuck. I forget how to move forward. I struggle but I get fed up and tired which in turn made me settle for what is only beyond my reach. It made me stagnant.

Four years ago, I was wandering in the portals of a city I never thought I would relive my life - Dumaguete City. I was always fascinated by the thought that I have survived all the trials that came my way. It has enriched my knowledge, my skills, my discernment and my emotions. It was not easy. Looking back, tears cascade down my cheeks thinking of how I hate people, how friendships and pacts were broken and of how I wished things like those never had happened to me. Then, faces of those people slowly gush into my mind slowly filling my memory back again - the reason why I am always stuck in the past.

This is a come-back. A new beginning. My awakening from a long slumber. I was stuck in the past, but not this time. I have decided to move on. And yes, it is all up to me.

diLemma

2010-01-08T18:59:00.004+08:00

Here I am again alone in the place I have called home for the past four years. I have sung every song, endured every pain, and shed every tear. I have lived a dream and I guess this is about that time when I have to wake up to the reality I have ignored for so long - to feel what I had to feel and cry until I cry no more.

It hasn't been easy. No, it wasn't.

I have nothing to boast for I am one ordinary being uncapable of turning people's heads. It is only MUSIC which gives life to my being. Without it, I am a nobody.

I begin to question myself, "What if I weren't a musician? What if I didn't know how to sing? What if I didn't have all these? Will still I be loved?" It pains me knowing that my chosen career path cannot feed a family nor sustain a man's life. But the only thing that I have always known, I was happy about it.

It was so selfish of me - to think about myself all the time. Nevertheless, there is no turning back now. Even if I were given another option, I would still be doing the same thing.

Often times, I wonder what life could have been for me if I weren't I am now.

Will I still be the me that I am now?

Will I still be meeting the same people?

Would have I still known love?

Would have I existed?

That'll forever be the question that would stir my mind.

dEad sTaR

2009-11-28T00:43:00.003+08:00

It has been raining in Dumaguete City three days ago. Along with the rain were my hopes and memories of love gone past – of broken dreams and promises. “The heavens are crying for me too”, I console myself. Then again, neither the rain nor the heat of the sun can clearly explain what my heart has been yearning.

It’s sickening to dwell on the past. It kills you slowly day by day. It is uncertain. It is unsustainable. It kills. But I have endured all these – of waiting in vain, of loving unconditionally, of giving my time and of being sincere with my thoughts and actions. Somehow, it wasn’t enough. I am beginning to hate but my memories of those days paint a smile on my face.

For all these years, I have wanted to prove the world wrong about all these. I was optimistic. I was hopeful that one day he will be able to see my worth, my love. That we can both conquer the world and see the beautiful sunrise. But even before it has begun, it has dawned in me, that this is a start of a sunset – a mark of a dead star’s perplexing light. It has been too gentle and captivating but all we see are remains of a shine that once was there – a light that have shined years ago but isn’t actually there anymore.

I have convinced myself that that star is still there – endlessly illuminating me. I will still have to convince myself more and make myself believe that that star is still shining for me. For me and me alone.

But it isn’t just the case.

The other night, I saw a falling star. It was fascinating. It was blue. Then I made a wish, “Please let him be happy for the rest of his life.” My conscience was talking to me, “Why wish for his happiness when you can wish for his love?”

It made me think. I realized and thought, “Because I don’t want him to love me just because of a wish.”

I wished on a falling star – on a dying star.

I have fixed my gaze on that star for quite some time now. For five years, six months, and eleven days to be exact – 17th of May, 2004 at 2:00am. The star’s light was slowly fading since the 28th of May, 2004 at 8:00pm. It is dead now, 28th of November, 2009 at 12:44am.

The light of that star shines still, that I am sure of. But that light shined years ago. And it takes hundred of light years for a star’s shine to reach the earth.

And I know that that star isn’t there for me anymore. It was shining for someone else.

I am a star, too, you see.

I am like all those stars.

Dead.

ocTobEr 29

2009-10-29T17:22:00.006+08:00

“The longer I live, the more I realize the impact of attitude on life. Attitude, to me, is more important than facts. It is more important than the past, the education, the money, than circumstances, than failure, than successes, than what other people think or say or do. It is more important than appearance, giftedness or skill. It will make or break a company... a church... a home. The remarkable thing is we have a choice everyday regarding the attitude we will embrace for that day. We cannot change our past... we cannot change the fact that people will act in a certain way. We cannot change the inevitable. The only thing we can do is play on the one string we have, and that is our attitude. I am convinced that life is 10% what happens to me and 90% of how I react to it. And so it is with you... we are in charge of our Attitudes.”

- Charles R. Swindol

Now I am a year older. *sigh* Fearing the dreaded number "3" that comes with the other number.

This is going to be a tough year for me.

Wish me luck.

Heutig sind mein Geburtstag und ich ein Jahre Älterer. Der Danke zu allen diejenigen, die mich lieben. Kann Gott, Sie mehr segnen! Ich liebe Sie Kerle!Und zu allen diejenigen, die mich hassen, werden Sie bald tot sein!

oF TruThS aNd DrEamS

2009-10-13T15:10:00.004+08:00

A Paper on Dean Francis Alfar’s SALAMANCA
a requirement for Literature 21
submitted to Mr. Ian Rosales Casocot

I remember those days when I was younger, about 16. My experiences had opened my eyes to what the world has to offer me – fully optimistic that sometime soon, love will conquer all. It, too, has deceived me for many times – by wonders of star-made shadows round that outshone my heart’s relentless desires. I have loved once and loved even more. Silently, my journey has started and soon, it’ll be all over. I immersed myself in the wonder of fate and life – a magic of how some things are out of my control. One begins to realize that every day is a new wonder, a new beginning – an unstoppable change of darkness to light, of sorrow to pain, and hatred to love.

Literature, as far as I had understood it, is merely a result of one’s desire to put into writing what one’s heart has long wanted to express. It emanates from one’s passion and of how one’s experiences have, in a way, made an impact to his being. This is true to all, even Filipino, writers. We write to satisfy ourselves, to address what we really feel – our joys, anger, love and hate. Through that, we connect.

I have encountered a few Filipino writers I never thought existed – Paz Marquez Benitez, Nick Joaquin, Steven Javellana and Pete Lacaba. Most of these Filipino writers tackle almost anything – from social problems to undying love stories – hoping to teach values and priceless lessons. Some are hidden in the complexities of the construction of words and some in the simple form of sentence-making. It makes you think. It, oftentimes, is dependent on each person’s experiences and maturity. Didacticism as we call it.

I remember that Dean Francis Alfar’s Salamanca has touched a lot of the essence of this (dictaticism). And that he was successful in doing so.

It is true that Salamanca is a story of love awakened by ardor, unfortunate events caused by selfish yearnings, of family brought about by a lot of surrendering and acceptance. This, in its sense, created a character – Gaudencio Rivera – that reminded me of my dad.

Like Gaudencio, my dad was an ambitious man.

The year was 1993. It was one of the most amazing years that I can remember with him, aside from the darkest decades that I endured, being my father. He was cool. A law enforcer for a dad was a child’s, during my time, dream dad. He would always bring me to school wearing his overly cool police uniform and would, again fetch me after his work. It was great calling him my father.

Gaudencio Rivera is one restless soul, derailed by the marvels of the now and blinded by what only is perceptible. He was presented as a young man full of optimism and dreamt that he will find a place closer, if not in, at least nearer, to nirvana.

He was an aspiring writer, graduated with flying colors and with heart full of pride, decided to leave the comforts of his home to unravel the mysteries of life that made him reach the islands of Palawan. There, in the place called Tagbaoran, his life changed forever.

Jacinta Cordova, as Dean Francis Alfar described her, is “a firm believer in modesty” blest with a “heart-shaped face, eyes perhaps a little too large for her head and the most boring black hair.”

She is the kind of woman every guy in town would want to have as his wife. She possesses that ability to make “you pull your trousers down and squat when you relieve yourself” and change concrete walls to glass. This was evident on her at the eve of her twelfth birthday. Wondering of how beautiful she might have been if she were a real persona – an epitome of a real Filipina beauty.

The story had lots of turns which made you think on what would happen next. Every line was filled with wonderfully constructed words making you read nonstop. It was heartbreaking.The story has amazed me so much that tears were welling down my eyes by the time I finished reading it.

“How could one afford to leave the person you proclaimed you love?” I kept asking myself. “How could one depart the one he loves after spending sleepless nights making prose on every paper and paste it on every corner of his most beloved wall hoping that she would read it? Is love not enough to sustain those wishful dreams?”

I began to question Gaudencio’s selfish fleet on the eleventh night of his marriage to Jacinta. That, I believe was the most coward thing a man could ever do – leaving your wife for almost two decades without any words. I deemed it unfair if I were Jacinta. I loathed Gaudencio.

Reminiscing, it was the year 1999, the time when everything changed. Setting aside the complex strata of Philippine political destabilization and politically incurred rallies, my dad, like Gaudencio, underwent a sudden phenomenal and abrupt change – my father left home not to work but to find another haven. Soon, mom and dad separated.

Family had always been the strongest foundation to a man's life. It is where he begins; it is where he draws back. This is what I believed in. “It might not have been the case for Gaudencio,” so I thought.

As the Microsoft Encarta Encyclopedia defines it, a family is the basic social group united through bonds of kinship or marriage, present in all societies. Ideally, the family provides its members with protection, companionship, security, and socialization. But it was not true enough for the story. Jacinta was left in mid-air.

Jacinta married Gaudencio because she loved her. But not all stories go too well. It was not a fairy tale. Not for Jacinta, neither for my mom. It came to a point when people were gossiping about Jacinta’s unfortunate condition. But she remained calm hoping that one day she will be able to heal her heart.

In the course of the story, both have encountered different people. They have, in a way, contributed in the wondrous journey of both Gaudencio and Jacinta toward undying love – Apolinaria Vergara, Jacinta’s aunt, who, “deaf or blind as the moment suited her,” was taken by the storm with her house; Cesar Abalos, a friend of Gaudencio, was “handsome and swarthy, with arms corded by years of heavy labor” who tried to look for him in the pursuit of saving him amidst the raging storm; Mrs. Helen Brown, a missionary from Kensington, Pennsylvania was a “faded school teacher and a recovering Baptist”, who ran toward Jacinta and pushed her face towards her forcing her tongue inside Jacinta’s mouth; and Bau Long Huynh, the unsung hero from Vietnam who loved Jacinta more than anyone could have ever imagined.

In my lifetime, I have met different people. I’ve met men who are caring and sensitive – like Cesar Abalos - and men who are cruel and calculating. I’ve known women who are sincere and honest and women who are jealous and hateful – in the persona of Mrs. Helen Brown.

Like Gaudencio and Jacinta, I’ve seen smiles filled with lies and tears wet with truths. I’ve shared time with those who have needed me and I’ve been by myself when I was in need. I’ve been associated with people who are dreamers but not doers and with people who make promises but never keep them. I’ve found myself learning how to understand all these personalities.

Dean Francis Alfar’s characters were a mixture of different personalities with different desires and outlook in life. They, like colorful strands, have woven a wonderful mat. They presented solutions to this eleven-day-sexless-marriage, answers to an abandoned woman’s prayer, remedies for the hopeless case of tall tales, and a super-hero who “saves the innocent victims from those bad villains.”

It depicted the reality of everyday scenarios and everyday people living in the stereotypes of our old-aged tradition, as what Apolinaria may not have thought, that God and family work hand in hand.

This was all set in the “secluded town of Tagbaoran on the island province of Palawan” – a place everybody is familiar of – “a collection of wooden houses and children who ran barefoot, trailing snot from their noses” - a scenario that resembled most likely to that of my childhood, the probinsya.

I believe that, if not everyone, at least mostly have experienced living with their lolos and lolas in the provinces for a vacation - a place where their moms and dads were reared. I did. These memories are still vivid in my mind.

Salamanca has opened my eyes once again to the sad reality of life. A question of why all the pain after all sufferings, of difficulty to understand and grasp all that there is right now, of why certain things needed to happen.

I loved how Jacinta endured all those lonesome years and the guts that took Gaudencio to face her once more and ask for forgiveness.

I hope someday, sooner or later, I too will have that strength and courage to face the world again with head held high and heart willing to embrace such enormous change no one would dare to.

Salamanca is a tale of a man’s journey - a pilgrimage in search of truth, love, hope, peace, friendship and love. A journey to find that happiness our hearts have long been longing for. We may have turned away from making a barrier out of the fantasies we always deem real yet we should learn to accept the world and its imperfections and ignore all our disillusionments, anxieties, infirmity and bewilderments.

We unleash our capacities to think harmoniously with the world and everything there is and have that creativity in looking towards life in a very optimistic way. Sooner or later, we begin to see clearly the way in which we can affect the world, its people and by the manner that we too are affected by it.

We begin to see that all those blurry images we see are slowly changed into clear ones, our entrapments to liberty, dissatisfaction to contentment, and our anxieties to tranquility.

That we will all soon realize that all these are a fragment of one’s imagination, a work of the magic of life – of Salamanca – and that not everything that starts with “Once upon a time” ends with “and they lived happily ever after.”

sOon

2009-10-03T22:21:00.002+08:00

I will be back soon. I have been very busy with school. My schedule has been killing me since the first day of class. To my friends in the blogosphere, you're not forgotten.

I missed a lot.

I missed you!

I will be back.

Soon.

pOsT faTheR's Day

2009-06-25T16:16:00.009+08:00

Our dearest childhood memories have nothing to do with the size of our house, the luxury of the family car, or the net worth of the household bank account. We remember laughter, joy, touch, and the small, every-day experiences where we truly felt loved and protected. To all the fathers who make such things the ultimate priority, thank you. Happy Father's Day!

Last Sunday, 21 June 2009 I went to a UCCP Church here in Dumaguete City. I thought Father's Day was a week before that. It turned out that it was that Sunday and not the other Sunday.

I send a short text message to my dad and greeted him. I did not expect any reply though. Surprisingly, he did. The message read:

"What should I be happy of?"

In a way, it struck me. My dad hasn't been too pessimistic since he and mom separated. It made me think. It pricked my heart. I did not try to entertain the thought and what I was feeling at that time. It had been a long time now you see. But memories are still fresh and vivid.

It was during a part of the Sunday church service when dads were asked to stand. Jokingly, a friend and I stood. We, along with the other dads, were given a small card. It was some plain card. A mere colored oslo paper with some prints on it with a small ribbon to accent it. It was basically nothing. But as soon as my eyes saw what was written on that small, insignificant home-made card, it made me remember my dad. It made me reminisce those good old times we have had.

CHARACTERISTICS OF A LOVING FATHER
5 Signs of a Loving Family by Gary Chapman (1995)

A LOVING FATHER will be active in his fathering.
The passive father is a responder. He relates to his child only when the child initiates the process. The active father looks ways to be involved in his children's lives.

I am the second of five children. My dad doesn't usually talk to us about anything. I remember when I was younger, my dad would usually talk to mom or to some of his friends and I would make several attempts to get his attention wanting so much to join with their conversation. Dad kept on ignoring me and I felt bad. As I grew older, I began to realize that maybe, just maybe, I was too young to understand what was being talked about.

My dad is not the kind of person who would ask you how have you been doing in school. He is the "what-you-see-is-what-you-get" kind of dad. Not unless we open things up, in which seems to be awkward, he would usually move away.

The LOVING FATHER will make time for his children.
Today's business and professional world does not value fathering but instead gives emphasis on production and on man's ability to accomplish.

The year was 1993. It was one of the most amazing years that I can remember with him, aside from the darkest decades that I endured, being my father. He was cool. A law enforcer for a dad was a child’s, during my time, dream dad. He would always bring me to school wearing his overly cool police uniform and would, again fetch me after his work. It was great calling him my father.

The LOVING FATHER engages his children in conversation.
There is no substitute for regular conversation. Conversation is one of the essential tools of fathering, and in a functional family, the father uses it regularly.

It may be funny to some people, but having a dad who would shout at you every 4:00AM of your weekday just to go to school, shout at you to get up using words of extreme descriptive and emotional sensation that you don’t need to hear just to tell he’s mad, and physically hurt you just to have you eat your breakfast without even having the slightest feeling of holding back, is not really an anecdote to those who are suffering or had suffered the extreme showcase of father-son love. It was like cancer – an agonizing experience that will slowly and painfully devour you.

The LOVING FATHER plays with his children.
The common problem is that fathers emphasize on "winning" and "doing it right" rather than having fun.

He treated us like toys – enjoying the pointless battering and unexplainable blabbering. It was the complete transformation of a once humane father to a monster I wish I never had known before.

At the occurrence of remembering what had happened, I can’t help myself but cry– of how dad beat mom up, of how he maltreated us, of how he placed me inside a sack, hang me upside down and of how he planned of shooting me at the head, of how he punched me and of how I suffered the pain it caused.

The LOVING FATHER teaches his values.
Values are things in life which we attach worth. Values are strongly held beliefs by which we order our lives.

Family had always been the strongest foundation to a man's life. It is where he begins; it is where he draws back.

I have known many and different kinds of people in my life. I’ve met men who are caring and sensitive and men who are cruel and calculating. I’ve known women who are sincere and honest and women who are jealous and hateful. I’ve seen smiles filled with lies and tears wet with truths. I’ve shared time with those who have needed me and I’ve been by myself when I was in need. I’ve been associated with people who are dreamers but not doers and with people who make promises but never keep them. I’ve found myself learning how to understand all these personalities and to avoid those that cause my life’s sadness.

The LOVING FATHER provides and protects his children.
This is the most basic level of fathering. Meeting the child's need for food, clothing and shelter is the least a father can do for his children.

It was the year 1996 when everything changed. Setting aside the complex strata of Philippine political destabilization and politically incurred rallies, my dad underwent a sudden phenomenal and abrupt change.

He turned into a monster.

He started to act weird towards us, towards me. He was hostile, unreceptive, harsh, and tough. He treated us with utmost distaste. He started shouting at us for no valid reason at all. Whip us with his belt for petty mischief.

Would your father whip you for playing with the fixtures on the clothesline? Well, my father did.

The LOVING FATHER loves his children unconditionally.
Unconditional love is the only true love. Love must never be the payment for right behaviour ("I love you if you do this..."). True love has no conditions.

I experienced yet another agonizing moment that would depict the Passion of Christ. I can still remember the perfect display of my acts; kneeling on mongo seeds and rock salt, belt-buckle whipping, and getting locked on the comfort room are a few examples of my arduous punishments.

Would it be reasonable to hurt somebody due to plain emotional instability and pure fascist rule?

The former would be highly revocable to contend with the justification of prudent parental moral obligation but the latter was an intense freedom from the thought that I would never be able to experience a caring father forever.

But even after all that has happened, I still dreamt that one day, I would find a logical, reasonable, and acceptable explanation behind his inane hurting. I was the hopeful one among my kith and kin.

That even when everything went topsy-turvy, I would still be a Joseph who would be highly optimistic and dream that someday, everything would be fine.

Things have changed though. And some things are unchangeable. Memories will always remain - good or bad - vivid and clear. My dad will always be my dad. I don't usually say this nor do I frequently express what I feel and I don't have all eternity for my dad to know this but this is for sure, amidst hurts and pains, Dad, I love you!

This is for you dad.
Happy Father's Day!

Photos courtesy of:
Jon Spot Photography

suLaT kAmaY

2009-05-10T14:31:00.004+08:00

I decided to dismiss what I wrote earlier. It kills me - my emotions, my mind, my way of thinking. It makes me numb. It scares me.

I was tagged by Violet on her PENMANSHIP TAG because she was too curious how my handwriting looks. So, to make her happy and to kill time, I decided to do this. I hate rules though so I decided not to follow some and made my own. *peace* It is I think an analysis of me through handwriting. This is called GRAPHOLOGY.

PENMANSHIP TAG
The rules:

1. Write down who tagged you.

2. Answer these:
- What is your NAME / PSEUDO / USERNAME
- Are you right-handed or left-handed?
- What letters do you like writing?
- What letters do you hate writing?

3. Write "The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog."

4. Tag five (5) persons.

I am tagging Jake, Richard, Flinchie, Bogs, and Luis.

Wikipedia defines this as:

"the study and analysis of handwriting especially in relation to human psychology. In the medical field, it can be used to refer to the study of handwriting as an aid in diagnosis and tracking of diseases of the brain and nervous system. The term is sometimes incorrectly used to refer to forensic document examination. Graphology has been controversial for more than a century. Although supporters point to the anecdotal evidence of thousands of positive testimonials as a reason to use it for personality evaluation, most empirical studies fail to show the validity claimed by its supporters. Graphology is now generally considered a pseudoscience."

I am MICO LAURON.

I am right-handed.

I like writing the letters in my name.

It kills me writing letters T, K, J and M

I remember writing in one of my posts lines like "Ako’y isang hamak na musikero lamang. Musika ang bumubuhay sa aking pagkatao, sa aking kaluluwa. Musika ang nagbibigay kahulugan sa aking magulong pagkatao. Kahit ganun pa man, musikero pa din lang ako. At kahit ang tadhanay walang magagawa sa isang katulad ko."

"Ako’y isang tipo ng mag-aaral na kung pupwedeng salihan ang lahat ng activities sa eskwelahan eh gagawin ko. Kulang na nga lang eh sumali pa ako sa Officer Training ng ROTC – isang kadahilanan kung ba’t ako’y napag-iinitan sa skwela dati. Di ko man naisin, ganun talaga. Ewan ko nga ba. ‘Ala naman akong masamang ginagawa. I just want to belong. Yung nga lang, siguro nai-irita sila. O baka nai-inggit lang talaga sila? Ewan."

Analysis made by Blogthings.

"Ako'y isang tipo na akala mo'y hindi kaagad-agad sumusuko. Yung tipong kunwari okey pa, pero sa kaibuturan ng pagkatao eh durog na durog na. Yung tipong pinapaniwala ang sarili na magiging matiwasay ang lahat kahit alam mo nang hindi. Kahit kitang-kita na. Nagbubulag-bulagan pa din. Tao nga talaga ako. Tao nga ba? O baka tanga nga lang talaga?

Ganun ako. Kahit alam kong sinisiraan na ako n'on eh parang okay pa din lang. Umaasa sa wala. Para akong nakalutang sa hangin. Mga "kaibigan" ko din naman kase sila eh. Di ko kase inakalang mesa Hudas din pala ang mga yun. Kase nga nagbibisi-bisehan ako sa eskwela. Kasi nga tanga! Ungas!"

At the end of the day, I know will fall into place. Not all things are basically reliable. Even this analysis. I believe that the best way to really know the person is to spend time with him/her and know the person more and not judge them just because of that person's handwriting.

a LeTTeR

2009-05-01T23:33:00.004+08:00

"Falling in love doesn't necessarily need to get through with sex. It is knowing the other person with who he was, he is. It is accepting his past, his present and his future. It is conscience. It is selflessness. It is trust."

I was scheming through some old papers I had five years ago. This was a part of a letter I sent to someone who meant so much to me dated 17th of June 2004. Memories began to gush in my mind. I have been struggling much with that relationship and I believe I still am. Everyday of my life I become more and more afraid. It is true that feelings and emotions are temporal. LOVE isn't. The only permanent in this world is CHANGE. It has been a long time I know. My life is still in pieces. I can't seem to pick them all up.

I have edited some parts of the letter due to some grammatical errors. I am posting this hoping that he would be reading it again. Yes, there are a million "FISH" in the ocean. Some have stung me. Some are slippery. But this, I have managed to hold on to.

Thursday
17 July 2004

It has been almost a month when I met you. I can clearly remember that time. Memories are still fresh and vivid.

It was raining. We were strangers. Least that I have expected that I will be falling for you. I believe that some people, like you, were meant only to teach a person to love again. To teach and but can't love in return. I am just happy that there was this YOU who shook the core of my being and made it see a spark of hope again.

I admit that everything seems to be so stupid. Stupid of falling in love with someone you have just met. An acquaintance. Though I know what I felt. This has taught me a valuable lesson - that no matter how ordinary a person can be, he could mean someone's world. I may not totally know your sentiments. I don't even know if you felt the same. Uncertain. Somehow, it made my world spin again.

It has been a week since classes started. Every day, I look forward of hearing from you. Often times I feel bad. I expected too much of recieving a single e-mail from you. I have to understand that though. Everytime I get home and lie on my bed, I could feel the cold air brushing my face - reminiscing those times when we talked about sweet nothings. I like it that way.

Falling in love doesn't necessarily need to get through with sex. It is knowing the other person with who he was, he is. It is accepting his past, his present and his future. It is conscience. It is selflessness. It is trust.

On that night when your folks gathered for a farewell dinner, you were a complete stranger. It was absurd to have expected too much attention from you. I was selfish. I apologize for that. I even confronted you about Andrew knowing the fact that I didn't have the right, even in its littlest form, to do so. I love you that much.

Twenty days of being away, I am still holding on. 28th of May, I had a last glimpse of your face, seen you smile, kissed your shoulders, held your hands - those hands that would never be mine. I am missing you.

Then again, thank you for being a part of me - an ordinary being. Thank you for the wonderful times spent.

If there could only be a line or two that has the power to bind all these things in my heart. I love you!

-Mikee

eLevEn miNuTeS

2009-04-08T20:52:00.004+08:00

"Today, while we were walking around the lake, along that strange road to Santiago, the man who was with me - a painter, with a life entirely different from mine - threw a pebble into the water. Small circles appeared where the pebble fell, which grew and grew until they touched a duck that happened to be passing and which had nothing to do with the pebble. Instead of being afraid of that unexpected wave, he decided to play with it."

I wish I were like that duck too - unafraid of unexpected ripples in my life caused by others with me nothing to do with. I don't seem to understand the world's uncertainty though. The issue of trust, again, sinks it. As I grow older, my realizations about life become deeper, problems get bigger, situations become more complicated and things really get messed up. Sometimes, I wish I could go back - back to the time when the only man in my life was my dad, my only bestfriend is my mom and any pain could be healed by just a band aid and a chocolate.

"Some hours before that scene, I went into a cafe, heard a voice, and it was as if God had thrown a pebble into that place. The waves of energy touched both me anda man sitting in a corner painting a portrait. He felt the vibrations of that pebble, and so did I. So what now?"

"The painter knows when he has found a model. The musician knows when his instrument is well tuned. Here, in my diary, I am aware that there are certain phrases which are not written by me, but by a woman full of "light"; I am not that woman though I refuse to accept it."

"I could carry on like this, but I could also, like the duck on the lake, have fun and take pleasure in that sudden ripple that set the water rocking."

We used to think that life is a fairytale - full of magic, exciting, vivid! But we fail to see that that was a long time ago. Now we know that there's more to life than just "Happily ever after..." We have learned that we get wiser each day and that NO fairy can lead us to a happy ending. We decide. We struggle. And somehow, we begin to understand that we have the power to make each day better than yesterday.

"There is a name for that pebble: PASSION. It can be used to describe the beauty of an earth-shaking meeting between two people, but it isn't just that. It's there in the excitement of the unexpected, in the desire to do something with real fervor, in the certainty that one is going to realize a dream. Passion sends us signals that guide us through our lives, and it's up to me to interpret those signs."

"I would like to believe that I'm in love. With someone I don't know and who didn't figure in my plans at all. All these months of self-control, of denying love, have had exactly the opposite result: I have let myself be swept away by the first person to treat me a little differently."

It's always a risk to love someone. It involves time, patience and understanding to get someone's heart to open up. At times, it will work; other times it won't. But I guess that's why you call it a RISK - you invest on something and there's a possibility you WON'T win. However, you still get something in return - the strength of heart and mind and the assurance that you won't have any regret from NOT trying.

"It's just as well I don't have his phone number, that I don't know where he lives: that way I can lose him without having to blame myself for another missed opportunity."

Do you know what we are really afraid of? We are not afraid of the dark but we are scared of what's in it. We are not afraid of heights, instead we are afraid of falling. We are not afraid of the people around us, we are afraid of rejection. We are not afraid to love, we are, I for one, afraid of not being loved back. We are neither afraid to try again, we are jsut afraid of getting hurt for the same reason.

"And if that is what happens, if I have already lost him, I will at least have gained one very happy day in my life. Considering the way the world is, one happy day is almost a miracle."

-Excerpt from Maria's Diary
(pgs. 111-113) Eleven Minutes
by Paulo Coelho

LiFe is a sEriEs of uNPubLiShEd pOsTs

2009-04-06T17:02:00.002+08:00

Isn't it?

Not everyone gets to know what actually happens to everyone everywhere anytime of the day. And that, for me, is one sad thought.

It makes me feel I am voiceless - my song and my cries - unheard.

I feel like an insignificant pebble being stepped on - ignored, spat on. A question runs in my mind, "Who would care for a pebble anyway?"

Life outside the blogosphere is totally different. Most of the times, you just can't undo what was done nor even predict what should and must be done. The blogosphere is a place where you can make mistakes but gives you the room to correct them. This place makes me human - humane.

There's a big difference with the real world. The real word?! Nah. It does nothing. It's just good about one thing - KILLING you. People are so fond of criticizing people - who's better than who. There are lots of people out there - silent yet stereotypically "air-headed." I know a lot. They even consider me one.

I have been through a lot and that I have seen things that aren't supposed to be seen by anyone else. I have even heard stories - of hate, of evil thoughts that could ruin lives - and yet I chose to be blind, I chose to be silent. I consider these things as a few of the many "unpublished" posts the world should know and hear.

Confidentiality. What a stupid thing to say. Something THEY just love to emphasize and yet THEY fail on it. TRUST?! If it were a person, it could have long been dead - dead since time immemorial. Everyone else does it. Who doesn't? You are one hypocrite if you would disagree with me. LIAR!

Who would even care even with a slightest feeling of all the things that I have been posting in here? I wouldn't even know. Who would care? Not even mom I guess. My rantings have been prevalent since I have returned. I have been too blinded by my bitterness and hatred - hatred for those people who I thought were my friends but eventually the same OLD DEMONS walking in the demented face of the Earth.

Now you know why our lives are a series of unpublished posts?

No?

Neither do I.

TaGGed: rAnTinGs

2009-03-22T21:03:00.003+08:00

I got tagged by Luis Batchoy and here are the rules:

A. Write something about 15 different people
B. You can not say who they are
C. If someone asks you which one is about them you can NOT tell
D. Tag 15 people who you think would do this, too You don't have to tag the people you wrote about.

I am one hard-headed kid lalo na pag instructions. Bahala na. Some are rantings. Kaya pasensya na sa lingo. I don't know who will be reading this post. Ei, Luis! Salamat. Here goes.:

1. If you think I have forgotten you, think twice. It may take me to oblivion but who cares. I have been talking to other people about you and how happy I am to have been with you and yet you ignore me. You're still that same person since we first met. And that's why I just can't let it go. I will be seeing you soon.

2. Amazingly, you are that person I never thought would be there for me. It has been hard, you see. But you have made each burden lighter. I owe you a lot. Remember when you called me and then I started shouting? I was down, depressed perhaps - too worried about the demons in my life. You just listened. And understood. And I am thankful for that - will always be grateful for that.

3. I have admired your talent, your principles, and your wit - that I can never be of equal. Kasi naman no matter what I do, ikaw pa din ang napapansin. In short, karibal kita. Hehehehe! Congrats sa'yo! I am a bit insecured or say jealous but I think that was meant for you. Ei, idol pa din kita. So keep on writing. Okay? Maka-inom nga ng kape't maka-yosi na lang din.

4. I have a friend with the same nickname like yours. He's one of the best friends that I ever had in my college years. Kahit crack kung minsan, najo-jologs or kahit ano pa, anjan palagi. And exemplary ang performance. Hmm.. I don't know you that much kase I just met you. But I think you and I will get along just fine.

5. Naks! Abogado. I have a lawyer before. Hmm... Twas like, let me see, four years ago. Kaso nga lang taken ka na. Intellectual ka. Sobra. Kaha hinahanga-an kita. Swerte siya kasi you are always there - ever loyal, ever supportive. Keep it up!

6. Hindi ako kasing-galing magsulat kagaya mo but I know that what I write comes from within - from my heart. I do acknowledge your talent and that you are one of those people I look-up to. Congratulations! I am graduating in a year's time. I hope I will be under you kahit na sabi nilang mahirap daw ang class mo.. Hehehehe!

7. You are the kind of person who just loves to kill people's shine. You are one insecured low-life bitch na wala nang ginawa kundi ang magtsismis and magpataba. If you think you are that smart and that good, hindi mo na kelangang ipagmayabang 'yon. Kasi 'pag ginawa mo 'yan, lumulobo lalo yung ulo mong parang sasabog. Mahangin ka. Oo nag-aral ka nga sa Tate, hindi naman kilala ang pamantasan mo. Bakit? Pipityugin din ba ang paaralan mo? Parang ikaw? Nang-aagaw ka nang kinang and you claim it as your own. Si Lord na lang ang bahala sa'yo. Mamamatay ka din naman. Kaya good luck sa'yo.

8. Linta! Kahit anong papayat ang gawin mo, kahit ano pa karaming make-up ang ilagay mo sa pisngi mo, pangit ka pa din. Sa puso mong kulay lupa? Wala nang tatapat sa kasamaan at sa pagiging sipsip mo. Magsama kayo ng amo mo! Mahiya ka sa sarili mo. Manggagamit! Isa kang tuta nga isang p*tang hangal kagaya niya. Blog ko 'to. Pagpalain nawa ang iyong kaluluwa.

9. I don't have what it takes to be a professional singer? Ikaw? Eh dikit ng dikit ka lang naman sa amo mo mong hangal ah. Hindi ka ba nagtataka kung ba't hanggang ngayon eh ganoon pa din ang trabaho mo? Tumatanda kang dalaga, ang budhi mo ay kay itim. Kasing itim ng kaluluwa mo. Sino ka para pagsabihan ako na wala masama akong tao? Sino ka para magsabi na wala akong utang na loob? Sino ka para magsabi nga lahat ng iyon eh type and encode lang naman ang alam mo. Akala mo kung sinong santo, mesademonyo ka din pala.

10. Bakla ka pa din. Mahiya ka sa sarili mo. Kung ayaw mo pang umamin, habang buhay mong pagsisisihan ang pagtago. Ipokrito ka! Isa ka sa mga taong tinitingala ko. Ano'ng ginawa mo? Ang galing mo namang gumawa ng kwento. Magshift ka kaya nga major? Malay mo, manalo ka ng Palanca Award. Ang sa mga uto-uto mong tuta, good luck sa kanila. Akala nilang lalaki ka. Tsk. Tsk. Bakla!

11. Bum nga pero okay lang. Baka hindi na bum ngayon. Hehehe! Saan ka na kaya? Tagal na kitang hinahanap ni hindi man lang kita mahagilap. I don't know you too well. I have even talked to you personallyu. Kaya hanggang blog na lang ako. Pasensya na po. Peace!

12. Yup. I am a pure-blooded artist and singing is my career path. Thanks for that - you know what I mean. Ilan pa kaya ang kagaya mo sa mundo? Hehehehe!

13. I miss Iloilo and I think naalala na kita. I was high school and we were texting back then. Inaway ba kita noon? Sorry ha? I was paranoid na kase. Too afraid to lose that person. Eventually, ganoon pa din ang nangyari. Laki kong tanga. Ipinagpalit ko ang ating friendship sa isang lint*k na aso.

14. *Bogs!* Bagsak mula sa ika-limang palapag. Aray! Sabay sabing, okay ka lang ba? Immeasurable ka kasi. Kaya itinulak ko na lang sarili ko kahit alam kong masakit at wala akong napala. Hehehehe!

15. I love you!

It's my turn to tag people and I hope they'd do the same.

Gillboard
http://gillboard.blogspot.com/
Mel Beckham
http://melbeckham.blogspot.com/
Lucas
http://roneilberania.blogspot.com/
Hopia
http://earnesthope.wordpress.com/
Myk2ts
http://isangkilongbigas.blogspot.com/
Mandaya Moore
http://mandayamoore-orlis.blogspot.com/
Roxanne
http://www.roxy08.com/
Buhay Bayot
http://buhaybayot.blogspot.com/
Jericho
http://kapetyosi.blogspot.com/
Violet
http://violetauthoress.blogspot.com/
Flinch
http://badlydrownedboy.blogspot.com/
Fern's Backyard
http://www.tazferian.blogspot.com/
Aiken
http://aikenquipot.blogspot.com/
Alex
http://www.retardedsnotebook.com/
Claudio
http://www.strictdancing.blogspot.com/

rAndOm ThOuGhTs

2009-03-18T17:36:00.004+08:00

My mind has been blank for a couple of days - especially after my recital. I have been receiving text messages that I don't have what it takes to be a "PROFESSIONAL SINGER." Well, I guess that would be "SOME PEOPLE"'s prerogative. I won't question it.

Finals is on its toll and my mind has been clouded by thoughts - thoughts of assurance, of uncertainties, of hate, of love - and not even thinking about my exams. Jury went well to last Saturday. Piano classes? Nah. Gone.

I am nearly graduating and I hope NOBODY is going to stop me from doing that.

I miss someone.

I hate someone.

I have been deliberately busy with school the past months, with my recital, my LIFE and my FUTURE.

There were lots of DETRACTORS but to hell with them. Let God be their judge.

Some things are better kept than shared.

Amazingly, I am still alive - still breathing, still living - having all these random thoughts.

OnE vOicE

2009-03-15T12:59:00.009+08:00

I have long been gone in the "blogosphere" and I really missed a lot for the several months of my absence - my recital. It was a succes, if I were to say it. My efforts paid. Mom was there, my aunts, my cousins, my sister and most especially, my friends. It wasn't easy memorizing all 13 songs - epistaxis!

Part One
Comfort Ye, recitative
Every Valley Shall Be Exalted, aria
from the oratorio MESSIAH
by George Frederic Handel

The work is a presentation of Jesus' life and its significance according to Christian doctrine. The name of the oratorio is taken from Judaism and Christianity's concept of the Messiah ("the anointed one"). In Christianity, Jesus is the Messiah. The work is divided into three parts which address specific events in the life of Christ. Part One is primarily concerned with the Advent and Christmas stories. Part Two chronicles Christ's passion, resurrection, ascension, and the evangelization to the world of the Christian message. Part Three is based primarily upon the events chronicled in The Revelation to St. John. Although Messiah deals with the New Testament story of Christ's life, a majority of the texts used to tell the story were selected from the Old Testament prophetic books of Isaiah, as well as Haggai, Malachi, and others.

Why By An Angel?, recitative
Total Eclipse, aria
from the oratorio SAMSON
by George Frederic Handel

Samson is an oratorio by George Frideric Handel. It was based on a libretto by Newburgh Hamilton, who based it on Milton's Samson Agonistes, which in turn was based on the figure Samson in Chapter 16 of the Book of Judges. Samson is considered one of Handel's finest dramatic works.

singing the FOUR songs of Handel

Part Two
Avant de quitter ces lieux
from the opera FAUST
by Charles Gounod

In 1864, when Faust was given in English at Her Maejsty's Theatre in London, Guonod yeilded to the strong entreaties of the baritone Santley who was unhappy with a role that had no aria. He took the melodic phrase from the prelude of the opera and turned it into the aria “Avant de quitter ces lieux.” In 1937, it had never yet been used at the Paris Opera.

The aria was inserted in the score between the entrance of Valentine, “O sainte medaille,” and the “Veau d'Or” strophes sung by Mephisto. It consists of three sections: (a) Valentin, joining the army, entrusts his sister Marguerite to the protection of the Lord; (b) he will be a valiant soldier, and if he falls, he will protect Marguerite from on high; (c) and the repetition of Part A.

Standchen
by Franz Schubert

"One Sunday, during the summer of 1826, Schubert with several friends was returning from Potzleinsdorf to the city, and on strolling along through Wahring, he saw his friend Tieze sitting at a table in the garden of the 'Zum Biersack.' The whole party determined on a halt in their journey. Tieze had a book lying open before him, and Schubert soon began to turn over the leaves. Suddenly he stopped, and pointing to a poem, exclaimed, 'such a delicious melody has just come into my head, if I but had a sheet of music paper with me.' Herr Doppler drew a few music lines on the back of a bill of fare, and in the midst of a genuine Sunday hubbub, with fiddlers, skittle players, and waiters running about in different directions with orders, Schubert wrote that lovely song."

Mattinata
by Ruggero Leoncavallo

Leoncavallo's charming Mattinata, whose title translates as "Morning Song," is a greeting from a lover to his beloved. He calls to her to awaken and to come down to him. The dawn is dressed in white, giving joy to the earth. The narrator asks the object of his affections to likewise dress and give joy to him: "Ove non sei, la luca manca, ove tu sei, nasce l'amor!" ("Where you are not, the light cannot shine, where you are, love is born!").

Una furtiva lagrima
from the opera L'ELISIR D'AMORE
by Gaetano Donizetti

Una furtiva lagrima (A furtive tear) is the romanza taken from Act II, Scene 2 of the Italian opera, L'elisir d'amore by Gaetano Donizetti. It is sung by Nemorino when he finds that the love potion he bought to win his dream lady’s heart, Adina, works. Nemorino is in love with Adina, but she isn't interested in a relationship with an innocent, rustic man. To win her heart, Nemorino buys a “love potion” with all the money he has in his pocket. The “love potion” is actually a cheap red wine sold by a traveling con man. But when he sees Adina weeping, he knows that she has fallen in love with him and the “Elixir” works.

singing Constancio de Guzman''s "Nasaan Ngayon Ang Sumpa Mo Sa Akin?"

Part Three
Brother Will, Brother John
by John Sacco

This is among the most widely used teaching repertoire for singers in the U.S. This is a completely different song selection for a certain voice type. Mr. Sacco composed hundreds of songs, including ''Johnny the One,'' ''Six Doves,'' ''High Flight,'' ''You Can't Take It With You,'' ''Rapunzel'' and ''With This Ring I Thee Wed.''

I Met A Girl
from the broadway musical, BELLS ARE RINGING
by Jule Styne

Bells Are Ringing is a musical with a book and lyrics by Betty Comden and Adolph Green and music by Jule Styne. The story revolves around Ella, who works at an answering service and the characters that she meets there. Three of the show's tunes - "Long Before I Knew You," "Just in Time," and "The Party's Over" - became popular standards. The original Broadway production, directed by Jerome Robbins and choreographed by Robbins and Bob Fosse, opened on November 29, 1956 at the Shubert Theatre, where it ran for slightly more than two years before transferring to the Alvin, for a total run of 924.

singing John Sacco's "Bother Will, Brother John"

singing Jule Styne's "I Met A Girl" with Jhon James Dayak on the clarinet

Nasaan Ngayon Ang Sumpa Mo Sa Akin
by Constancio de Guzman
Iyo Kailan Pa Man
by Angel Pena

These songs are about unrequited love. Written by the Philippines’ most notable pioneers of jazz music, the work belongs to the genre of Philippine Romantic Music known as the Kundiman. The song consists of a haunting melody that serves to reinforce its text which is a paradox of lament and hope.

"The Finale"

Finale
ONE VOICE
from the musical ONE VOICE
by Robert Sterling

As qouted from the Director’s Note, Ian Talbot said, “About 12years ago this show came across my desk. I immediately fell in love with the music, and identified with the characters. I hoped that others would as well. Within those 12 years I kept coming back to this show, wanting to present it, but did not yet have the resources with which to do it right. After starting Masquer three years ago, One Voice kept going to the top of the list of presentations, only to come back to "we need more people." It is a blessing to finally see One Voice not only presented, but done right. We all have one voice; some sing, some make speeches, others prayers. Some use their voice without ever saying a word, but they reach out. Our hope and prayer tonight is that when you leave this place you will ask yourself, "How will I use my voice?"

singing Ruggero Leoncavallo's "Mattinata"

singing Gaetano Donizetti's "Una furtiva lagrima" with Joyce Zerda on the cello

siLenT PoeTrY

2008-12-22T20:09:00.019+08:00

"SILENT POETRY"

First Solo Painting Exhibition
of

PRECY ANN CUA

"Awaiting" Oil on Canvass (65cm x 35 cm)

THE MIND AND SPIRIT OF

P R E C Y A N N

The saying that the youth is wasted in the young in not true of Precy Ann Cua. Watching her paint, you know she has not wasted the vigour of her youth. She becomes one with the brush that she weilds.

In "Silent Poetry," her first solo painting exhibition, Precy Ann celebrates her youthful experiences, experimentations in beautiful and striking colours. Her talent is quick to discern from the ease and confidence with which she combines colours and makes use of unconventional materials to serve her art.

"Looking at Me" Oil on Canvass (25cm x 30cm)

"Fake a Smile" Oil on Canvas (110cm x 140cm)

Precy Ann’s paintings show an adventurousness in expressing herself through eclectic means. Her use of symbols, images and pictures, whether or not to make a point, make powerful statements. Her kind of art demands character and understanding of the essence forms.

"Deeply Within" (Series of 3) Oil on Canvas (40cm x 60cm)

"Three Sides of Blue" (Series of 3) Mixed Media (40cm x 60cm)

"Green Window" Oil on Canvass (60cm x 80cm)

"Blue Tears" Oil on Canvass (60cm x 80cm)

"Silent Poetry" is a summation of her first attempts at expressing herself, following her discovery of what it means to be liberated through the medium of painting. And it was last 2005 when she began art studies under the accomplished Filipino painter, Fernendo Modesto.

"Kikay" Mixed Media (30cm x 30cm)

"View from the 17th Floor" Mixed Media (50cm x 40cm)

"Rain Outside My Window" Oil on Canvas (50cm x 60cm)

"Frangipanies" Oil on Canvas (50cm x 60cm)

Precy Ann compels you think and smile, for her works, which bear intense and expressive quality, are happy paintings, even her rendition of tears. They connect to the mind and the spirit. They are indeed poetry without words.

Precy and I in Boracay

LonG TimE

2008-12-15T17:46:00.002+08:00

It has been a long time when I last made a post in my blog. I have been extremely busy this semester. And that I am busy working on with my Junior Solo Voice Recital. Preparing fifteen (15) songs is a tough job. I missed you guys! Thanks for always checking me out. I may not able to respond to you most of the time but be assured that yu are being thought of. I will be back soon. That is joke. That's an assurance. Just let me finish with this thing. I have until February 26 before deadline.

I missed you all!

I will be back soon.

I promise.

ocTobEr 29

2008-10-28T15:28:00.005+08:00

na ako.

Tumatanda na.

Dagdag na naman sa edad.

Di na ako bata.

Hindi ko na mababago yaon.

Ganun pa man, MALIGAYANG BATI na lang sa'kin.