WHY DO PEOPLE WANNA FALL IN LOVE?

In 1999, I watched the film THE MIRROR HAS TWO FACES and found myself rewinding the VHS tape on a particular classroom scene which caught my romantic ears' attention. Sharpening my skills at Gregg's shorthand anew, I transcribed the portion which attempts to answer the question above.

Am I buying it? Nah.




ROSE'S CLASSROOM SCENE
THE MIRROR HAS TWO FACES


Rose:
So this is the scene at my sister's wedding, right? There she is getting drunk, regretting she ever got married for the third time, mind you. And my mother is so jealous she is sprawling snakes from her hair. And I am thinking, this is perfect. We've got three feminine archetypes here. The divine whore, excuse me. Medusa. And me. Who am I? What archetype? Trevor?

Trevor:
Virgin Mary?

Rose:
Thanks a lot, Trevor. No! The faithful handmaiden. Always the bridesmaid, never the bride. It does prove however what Jung said all along. That myths and archetypes are alive and well and living in my apartment. As I stood at the altar beside my sister and her husband-to-be, it struck me that this ritual called a wedding ceremony is really just the final scene of a fairy tale. They never tell you what happens after. They never tell you that Cinderella drove the Prince crazy with her obsessive need to clean the castle. That she missed her day job. Right. Now, they don't tell us what happens after because there is no after. The be-all and the end-all of romantic love was ... Mike?

Mike:
Sex?

Rose:
Mike ... Mike ... Mike. Sex ... on the brain, Mike. Right? Yes?

Student 1:
Marriage?

Rose:
Marriage, that's right. But it wasn't always like that. Around the 12th century, there was a notion known as courtly love where a love had nothing to do with marriage and nothing to do with sex. In most cases, it was defined as a passionate relationship between a knight and a lady of the court who was already married. And so they could never consummate their love. In this way, they would have to rise above your ordinary, ah, you know, going-to-the-bathroom-in-front-of-each other kind of love, right. And they would go after something more divine. They took sex out of the equation and what was left was a union of souls. Now, think of this. Sex was always the fatal love potion. Look at the literature of the time. Lancelot and Guinevere. Tristan and Isolde. All consummations could lead to was madness, despair, or death. Clinical experts follow that with my Aunt Esther, are united in the belief that true love has spiritual dimensions while romantic love is nothing but a lie, an illusion, a modern myth, a soullist manipulation. Speaking of manipulation, it's like going to the movies and we see the lovers onscreen kiss, and the music swells and we buy it, right? So when my date takes me home and kisses me goodnight, if I don't hear the Philharmonic in my head, I dump him. Now the question is, why do we buy it? We buy it because whether it's a myth or a manipulation, let's face it, we all want to fall in love, right? Why? Because that experience makes us feel completely alive. Where every sense is heightened, every emotion is magnified, our everyday reality is, is shattered and we are flung into the heavens. It may only lasts a moment, an hour, an afternoon, but that doesn't diminish its value. Because we are left with memories that we treasure for the rest of our lives. I read an article a while ago that said when we fall in love we hear Puccini in our heads. I love that. I think it is because his music fully expresses our longing for passion in our lives. And, and romantic love. And while we're listening to Love Away (?) or Turindot, or reading Wuthering Heights or watching Casablanca, a little bit of that love lives in us too. So, the final question is, why do people wanna fall in love when you can have such a short shelf-life and be devastatingly painful? What do you think? Stacey?

Stacey:
It leads to propagation of the specie?

Rose:
Hmm. Bren.

Bren:
Psychologically, we need to connect with somebody.

Rose:
Could be. Jill?

Jill:
Because we're culturally preconditioned?

Rose:
Good answers but much too intellectual for me. I think it's because, as some of you already may know, while it does last, it feels fucking great! That's why. Right?

FAR AT 50 METERS, DEEP AT 10 FEET

When my big right toe touched the protruding mushroom-like head of a coral 50 meters away from the shore, I inwardly shouted victorious cries of “hurrahs” and profusely congratulated myself though no one heard. It was a literal step of faith made more significant by the fact that I have not had any previous experience in attempting suicide by way of drowning.

I have a tremendous respect for bodies of water – the kind that borders on unfounded fear that prefers to leave them be. I could go ga-ga over the shades and hues of the deep blue sea or even find refreshment beside a rippling brook or a flowing stream in a Japanese garden or be ecstatic about the noise of a raging river after an overnight storm. But to consider plumbing the depths of a 10-feet deep coral garden even in the friendliest of Puerto Galera’s diving spots, is almost twisted.

I did it.

Armed with nothing but a pair of white Mach135 rubber sandals and your basic snorkeling gear, I navigated the warm waters of what the local boatmen call Batangas Channel, wary of every floating green moss that seemed to gravitate towards my already sun-burned body. I was afraid but I was also determined. I was hesitant but I was also excited. I was terrified but I was also thrilled. Who would have thought that a short swim among the fishes could inspire such ambivalence?

And so, I trudged the clear waters, ever so cautious as to not touch any unwanted creature of the sea floor. When, with one swift maneuver of the torso, I was ushered into the intricate maze-like territory of the sea world, I held my breath both in suspense and in awe.

Fishes. Various sizes and shapes and colors. Translucent. Dotted. Striped. Green. Blue. Yellow. Orange. Black. I even saw a Nemo-like clownfish hidden in an algae-like shrubbery and a baby eel easing its black-and-gray length on the ocean floor. At a distance, the very-much avoided jellyfish lurked.

A school of green and black fishes started to circle the ground I was precariously stepping on, and I began to panic when one of these tiny babies poked my now trembling right knee. Did they sense my terror? Were they making fun of me? I wonder who rules them and sends the signal to “attack”. I dove in deeper in desperation only to be mesmerized anew. Larger fishes now teem around me and as I looked around, more confident than moments earlier, I found myself swimming among fishes!

It does not need much coaxing to be terrified in the deep especially when you have been fed by too many sinister scenes depicting the unfriendly side of the sea in Hollywood films. But it is also easy to get lost in the beauty of this seemingly exclusive world.

More importantly, it is beautiful to lose the grip of terror by conquering it with a single step of your big right toe on a mushroom-like head of a coral 50 meters away from the shore.

THREE FOR M...

(This photo was taken when Manfred and family visited in May 2006. Jom was only 6 months old at the time.)



To Manfred Abele
Who Became A Part of Me
In 1991 -
A Toast to A Lifelong Friendship



1.
coming into your life
is like moving
to another city.
i am excited to explore
new grounds
yet apprehensive
of the unknown territories
associated with
discovery

coming into your life
is like moving
to a world of dreams.
your presence
is overpowering
my entire being
is waiting.





2.
in a cold-hearted city
where a myriad of fantasies
are born out of ennui
i am happy
for all the
changes
your coming into my life
has wrought upon me.

indeed,
i am happy
for the moment.
and being happy
for the moment
is more than
good enough.






3.
i did not expect
to find you in me
and i, in you
yet we have become
entwined.

you became a part of me
because i found you
and you opened yourself to me
i became a part of you
because you welcomed me
and i walked towards you.

i pray that as we come together
we will be united
in understanding
in giving and taking
in removing barriers
questions
doubts
and fears.

i pray, too
that even if
we should part
when we part
for reasons
unreasonable
or not –
we will become richer
for all of what
our togetherness
has been
to us.


10 November 1991

THIS USED TO BE MY PLAYGROUND

THE DYWIDAG VILLAGE
One Last Glance



quiet. this is the least of all adjectives you would use to describe the now-eerily silent dywidag village. once a bustling oasis of never-ending activities, the compound now awaits the imminent closure of its gates: proverbiallly chained, padlocked, and shut. it teemed with life. it breathed. it contended with newer and state-of-the-art compounds which came out like mushrooms after a gloomy thunderstorm. and it bowed. one final curtain call.

will the eucalyptus trees last? will the parrots come back to perch and poke on the date palms? will the doves now freely fly lower over the pool? will there still be leftovers for the cats to feast on? will the cacophony of noise and sounds be replayed again?

for instance, that distinct thud of a tennis ball screeching inside the baseline as groundstrokers pound the yellow thing back and forth. or the summer splash that cuts through the tepid pool water as kids attempt to outdo each other in their diving skills. or the boisterous laughter and shoutings of the lebanese bachelors who even bring their own portable stereo by the poolside to add to the ever-increasing decibel of pulsating noise. or the clinks of cutlery over crockery on friday theme nights at the BBQ as glasses are raised to a toast and waiters impatiently scuttle here and there wondering what time this routine activity of the stomach will end. or even the cheap talks and the shallow exchanges of pleasantries. among children. among housewives. among husbands and fathers. these sounds, these noises, once validations of life and motion in the camp, are now sadly inconspicuous if not altogether dead.

having lived in this camp for more than a decade and being in the heart of camp activities myself, i cannot help but feel nostalgic as fleeting images of camp life play hide-and-seek in my mind. true, there will be no more work orders to attend to and no more demanding housewives to please-to-death, but i’d rather have them again in exchange for the deafening silence of the nights. true, there will be no more fabulous parties and travesty shows and rigid tournaments to organize but i would gladly be buried in busyness again rather than face an empty dance floor and lifeless tennis courts. true, there will be no more staff to supervise nor services to be rendered but give them back again and i won’t mind as long as we see other signs of life yet again. yes. wishful thinking.

this has been home. home not only to the familiar faces of the dywidag family members but also to more than 3,248 household surnames that came and passed and went and wrote chapters of their life stories here. each soul had its own story to tell. had its own tale to weave.

i have been witness to new friendships formed and have been blessed by quite a few number of residents who have become friends through the years. i have also seen relationships turned sour between couples which resulted in rueful divorces. i have witnessed love stories bud and blossomed. i have witnessed these unions giving birth to another life – many babies have been born and raised here. i have witnessed the sting of death too, as one family grappled with the demise of an only son and a young engineer died in his sleep. and even if by design or choice, i did or did not directly touch their lives, i know that in a small way a footnote in their life stories will mention an episode at the dywidag.

i have also witnessed passage of time as from year to year we celebrated valentine’s day and fasching carnival and easter egg hunting and summer night parties and st. martinstag’s children’s lantern parade and oktoberfest and halloween and the eagerly anticipated best-of-the-whole-lot christmas bazaar and christmas eve dinners and silvester in celebration of new year’s eve.

i have seen the baton passed among three compound managers before it was conclusively passed on to me. i have also seen the colours of my hair dramatically changed from asiatic dark brown to old-age grey.

i have seen satisfied faces of tenants going about their normal village life: ladies leaping onto shopping buses, children screaming as they get off school buses, men drinking non-alcoholic beer as their billiard sticks target odd and even balls to sink down billiard table holes. if there had been voices of discontent, they came in hushed whispers.

i have seen the sadness in these people’s eyes as they came into the camp office to confirm the truthfulness of their eviction, their faces looking for clues and answers as to what happens next. i have seen how, one by one, keys were returned, houses turned-over to us, and goodbyes tearfully said.

here and now, what do you do when you’re faced with 202 empty and forlorn houses staring down at you in all loneliness? do you shout back with bitterness and grief? or do you rejoice at the smell of freedom and relief from the oppressive routine? is it possible that during this inescapable ritual of handing-over the compound to its rightful owner, you feel both grieved and relieved in equal parts and at the same time?

i can hand-over every nook and corner, every spoon and fork, every air-conditioner and oven, every couch set and bed, every curtain and towel, but how do you hand-over memories? you don’t. you tie and bound them together. you store them in the recesses of your heart and mind. you come back to them when you want to find out where the last decade has gone. this, for sure, i will do.

and so – what remains after everything is said and done? gratitude. this last bit, i want to express in recognition of the many things i am thankful for.

firstly, i am thankful that i have been blessed with such a superb team of conscientious crew with whom, i like to think, i have had the good and enjoyable opportunity to work with. they pick garbage, change gas bottles, sweep and mop and dust, wash and iron, plant and landscape, repair, assemble and rebuild, even recycle people’s shit at the biogest! they dutifully perform their jobs and how! if the camp is credited for its excellence in providing speedy and professional service, kudos should go mostly to them. they may just be some nameless, faceless personnel number in a long payroll list, but without them it would not have been possible to run the camp as efficiently as we did.

secondly, i am thankful to have known a great bunch of professionals at the office. from the top secretary down to the guy who prepares the best indian tea. we may not have had the occasion to socially interact for lack of common interests, but i hope that we will remember each other for more than just being mere acquaintances. i hope to be remembered not only as the guy who runs the camp, who changes hairstyle as often as the wind blows, whose fashion sense borders on the ludicrous at times, who brought smiles and amusement, and whose loud laughter and wild jokes reverberate through the hallways of the riyadh office. but i want to be remembered as a member of a family who is now in pursuit of hopefully better things.

finally, i am thankful to the dsa management for the respect and trust that they have so generously charged me with. even during my early days at the dywidag, when i worked as a temporary telephone operator who fought for his overtime hours, this mutual regard has already been in place. respect and trust cannot be bought,only earned. it is my hope that i did not fail the management when i was entrusted with such huge responsibilities.

i will not gain much more from singing praises to the company, but this much i know is true: dywidag has opened doors and windows for me to expand my view of life and has provided with me the opportunity to interact with and learn from people from all walks of life. my experiences have become my education and have bolstered my confidence and belief in myself. dywidag has been the conduit through which most of my dreams have been fulfilled: to travel extensively and whimsically and to comfortably support a family back home (payday on the dot without delay!!!). most of all, dywidag has embraced me and took care of me and accepted me wholeheartedly for the person that i am.

for this and all of the above, i am infinitely grateful.

1 december 2001


(Dywidag Village was one of Riyadh's well-known Western compounds situated along the Old Khurais Road. It began its operation as a residential compound in the late 70s for the staff and crew of the German construction firm Dyckerhoff und Widmann AG when they were commissioned to build the Riyadh TV Center. Dywidag closed its gates as a compound on 30 November 2001.)

THESE ARE A FEW OF MY FAVOURITE FILMS

i had to laugh when i checked my profile and noted that the films i listed under the "favourite film" category are all centred on female characters: working girl, notting hill, bridget jones' diary, sliding doors. they also starred some of my favourite screen faces: melanie griffith, julia roberts, renee zellweger, gwyneth paltrow respectively.

when i was asked a similar question in the past, i thought that in a blink of an eye, i'd be able to enumerate a dozen films of good repute, being a certified movie buff. but profoundness eluded me on the spot. what came to mind are those films that i have watched and watched and watched and watched and watched and never got tired of watching all over again.

i took to working girl because the female character persisted on getting to the top in spite of the odds against her and succeeded in doing so. i liked that kind of "inspirational" message. the next three films, i enjoyed primarily because of the anglophile in me. the british accent of the genuine british hugh grant, and the perfectly intoned british-ness of renee z., and gwyneth (who was also brilliant in emma, shakespeare in love and obsession, accent-wise). in notting hill, i did not fall for the illusion it offered (a huge superstar falling for a travel bookstore owner), but i was too entertained to actually entertain the thought of that illusion. in bridget jones, i saw a reflection of several people i know in the persons of the "fuckwit" daniel cleaver and the "uptight" mark darcy. in sliding doors, i terribly enjoyed the newness and originality of the script. it brought to mind another british film of old, something called "betrayal" which actually began with the ending.

the list doesn't stop there though. todate, except for one film (cavalcade), i own an entire collection of oscar best picture winners. there are the james bond series (casino royale not included), 8 of meryl streep's 13 nominated films and a host of classic literature inspired movies lining up my dvd/vcd/vhs shelves.

no, i have not seen them all. but the pleasure of having them is enough for the moment.

ISANG LIHAM KAY D...

(Isa sa mga paborito kong sulat para sa isang kaibigan.)

11:58am

dearest d,

ayan, nagma-mature ka na talaga. mabuti yung hindi ka nabubuhay sa anino ninuman. mabuti yung ikaw ang gumagawa ng sarili mong lilim. mabuti iyong kahit sa maliit na paraan, nagkakaroon ka ng boses para sabihin kung ano ang laman ng puso at isip mo. (di ba sabi sa desiderata ... ”and listen to others, even the dull and ignorant; they, too, have their story.") mabuti yung hindi ka madaling nadadala ng opinyon ng iba, dahil ginagamit mo ang sarili mong pagsusuri ng mga bagay-bagay. sa pamamagitan nyan mas madali mong matututunang igalang ang sarili mo at tanggapin ang paggalang ng iba. at saka, mabuti talagang nagagamit mo na ang mga leksiyon ng nakaraang panahon para patunayang sa paglipas ng napakaraming oras, marami kang butil ng karunungang inani sa buhay.

kaya lang mag-iingat ka. napakakitid ng pagitan ng pagiging matalino at hangal. isa sa mga bagay na natutunan ko nitong nakaraang taon ay ang magpakahinahon. ang isa sa mga magagandang anino ng pakikipagtalastasan ay hindi ang pagkakaroon ng paninindigan sa mga iba’t-iba at samutsari ng buhay na kung tutuusin ay hindi naman lubhang mahahalaga. higit na matimbang ang pagmumuni-muni, ang pakikinig, ang pagdaragdag sa mga bagay na alam mo na, mula sa bibig ng mga tunay na marurunong. siguro lang, pakiwari ko sa sarili, lumampas na ako sa puntong ang naririnig ko na lang ay ang sarili kong boses, ang sarili kong halakhak, at ang palakpakan ng ibang tao. totoo ngang habang tumatanda ka pala, mas nagiging masigasig kang hindi mapansin.

sa maniwala ka’t hindi, marami akong mga bagay na natutunan ngayon sa pamamagitan ng paglalaan ng oras sa mga kasaysayan ng iba – halimbawa, mga kwento ng barbero tungkol sa politika at pamahalaan; mga kuwento ng tindera sa palengke tungkol sa paano mapapanatiling sariwa ang mga prutas sa loob ng isang linggo; mga kuwento ng mga masahista tungkol sa pananamantala ng kanilang mga parokyano...

walang kasingsarap ang magkaroon ng maraming kaibigan. lamang ay hindi ka dapat yumakap sa pader sa kabibilang kung ilan sila. mas kapaki-pakinabang para sa iyong kaluluwa ang magkaroon ng sapat na bilang ng kaibigang kaya mong mahalin at ingatan sa buong panahon ng buhay mo. sa totoo lang, konti lang sila talaga. sila yung kahit na maghubo’t-hubad ka sa harapan nila at ng ibang tao, sa literal at simbolikong punto, tatanggapin ka pa rin at lululuning buung-buo. sila yung kahit hindi mo naririnig ang boses sa napakatagal na panahon ay patuloy na umaawit sa iyong diwa. sila yung hindi mo man nahihipo o nayayakap, ay palagi mo namang kasa-kasama sa puso. sila yung isa sa mga dahilan kung bakit buo ang pagkatao mo dahil ang buhay nila ay pira-pirasong bahagi ng kabuuan mo. subalit hindi rin nangangahulugan ito na hihinto ka na sa pagbubungkal ng mga panibagong pakikipagkaibigan. habang lumalawig ang buhay natin, higit tayong nangangailangan ng mga tao, liban sa ating pamilya, na kasabay nating umaangkas sa pagharurot ng buhay.

hoy, huwag mong pagdudahan ang pagkalalaki ni .... ako na ang magpapatunay sa iyo, hindi siya miyembro ng asosasyon. kaya kung maaalala kang sulatan ni ronnie at naka-stuck pa sa 8th floor ng chicago towers ang kanyang kilay, sabihin mong maghunus-dili siya. ang tiya-tiyahan mo ay mahigit nang isang taon sa amerika at aliw-aliw ngayon sa kabibilang ng bawat snowflakes na bumabagsak sa harapan ng kanyang bintana, habang nagtitirintas ng buhok at umaawit ng mga lumang kundiman. malungkot siya doon, at parati mo siyang isama sa bawat nobena at padasal mo sa taong ito.

napanood ko ang HOMECOMING at palagay ko nabanggit ko nang para akong natauhan nang sumagi sa isip kong hindi na pala mangyayaring pipila ako sa linya sa airport habang bitbit ang maraming nakakahong bagahe at pasalubong pag dumaraan sa customs at immigration bilang OCW. hindi ako nalulungkot. hindi rin naman ako masaya. wala lang. deadma. pero kung tutuusin, napakalaking paghakbang iyon mula sa ibang mundo papunta sa panibagong mundo. kung alin ang mas totoo at mas masaya sa dalawa, hindi ko pa lubos na nasusuri. masayang naranasan ko ang indayog ng dalawang bahagi ng pagkakahati nila. at masaya akong sa bawat oras at panahong inilagi ko sa magkabilang dulo, punung-puno ng buhay at kulay at hugis ang naging paglipas ng panahon. walang nasayang. walang natapon. lipos.

kabilang na sa mga kasaysayan ng nakaraang panahon ang kabanata tungkol kay ........ isang masaya, malungkot, masarap, masakit, matamis, mapait na kabanatang alam kong pipiliin kong mangyaring muli kung mamamatay ako at mabubuhay muli. bilang lang sa daliri ng isang kamay ang mga sandaling totoo sa buhay ng isang tao. alam ko sa loob ng puso ko at sa bawat himaymay ng laman ko, totoong lahat yung sa amin. ilang beses ka bang maaaring mahaling tunay? ilang tao lang ba ang magmamahal sa iyo nang tunay? pero, umiikot pa rin ang gulong. gumagaling ang puso. natututo rin. natututunan ng pusong hindi na siya maaaring magmahal nang hindi hihigit o magkukulang kaya sa nauna nang tinamasang pagmamahal. sa edad kong ito, baka insurance ko na lang ang mahalin sa akin. ha-ha-ha!!! pero hindi katulad ni norma desmond, alam kong sa pagdating ng paglubog ng araw ko, mananatili sa diwa ang panahong minsan, nagtampisaw ako sa napakaraming matatamis at maiinit na tag-araw. o di ba?

1:12pm
8 january 04

A YEAR AFTER THE THANK YOU...

(Ito ang PS makaraan ang isang taon.)




Para kay Kuya Rollie.

Hindi lang ang buwan-buwang text load. Hindi lang ang pang-araw-araw na mensahe of comfort and encouragement. Hindi lang ang mga periodical assortment of gifts. Hindi lang iyon ang mga bumubuo ng jigsaw ng ating pagkakaibigan. Higit sa mga bagay na nakikita, nasasalat, naaamoy, naririnig at nalalasahan – may isa kang bagay na ibinigay at ibinuhol sa akin. Puso.

Saan ka ba nanggaling? Taga-kabilang bakod kang tinitingala ng mga taga-tambakang katulad ko. Pero ano't bigla kang naligaw sa sapot ng isang walang-kapangyarihang gagamba? Noong una, nariyan ka lang sa tabi. Ngumungiti. Bumabati. Nagtatanong. At unti-unti... hanggang heto ngayon, kabilang ka na sa kumpas ng buhay ko.

Maraming-maraming salamat, kaibigan, sa bawat kabutihang hindi ko man nasusuklian ay tinitiyak kong hindi lumalampas sa paningin ng Diyos. Isa ka sa mga nagpapatunay sa aking tunay na may inaani ang mga nagtatanim.

12 July 2005

PATRICE ANGELA AT 18

(This letter was written on the occasion of Patrice Angela Garcia Barredo's 18th Birthday - a long time prior to Jose Miguel.)



PARA KAY PATRICE,


Noong una kitang kargahin pagkapanganak sa iyo, ni hindi pumasok sa isip kong darating ang isang araw na magiging 18 ka. Na huhubarin mo ang damit ng pagkasanggol, ng pagkabata, ng pagka-adolescent, at unti-unti mong isusuot ang damit ng pagdadalaga.

Ang konti ng buhok mo noong bata ka. (Alam ba nila na wig lang ang suot mo ngayon?) At saka ang ganda mo noon. Tahimik ka lang. Parating nagko-close-open ng kamay. Parating nagbu-beautiful-eyes. Parating nakangiti. Parating nakasalubong sa ninong.

Hindi ko nasubaybayan ang paglaki mo. Tuwing magbabakasyon ako, parati ka lang nasa isang tabi. Naghihintay na mapansin. Naghihintay ng pasalubong. At ang itim-itim mo. Minsan kang kinulot ng Nanay mo, akala ko anak ka ng Ita.

Taun-taon, nakakatanggap na lang ako ng mga litrato mo. Ang mga participation mo sa school. Lalo na sa pagsasayaw. At sa pagkanta. Grabe, ang lakas ng loob mo. Noong gumadyewt ka sa elementary, nagulat ako! Ang kapal mong mag-make-up. Noong gumadreyt ka naman ng high school, nagulat ulit ako. Ahit na ang kilay mo!

Ngayong dalaga ka na, mas gumanda ka naman. Salamat sa make-up! At marami ka ng crushes, kahit na konti lang ang may crush sa iyo. Sayang hindi nila alam na malaki ang mamanahin mo sa akin. Ha-ha-ha!!!

Sa birthday mo, mayroon akong 18 bagay na gustong ipaalala sa iyo:

1 You are a child of God. Huwag mong kalilimutan iyan. At bilang anak ng Diyos, dapat mahalin mong una sa lahat ang Diyos Ama. Iiwanan ka ng marami mong mahal sa buhay, pero ang Panginoon, parati siyang nandiyan. Higit sa kahit na anong bagay, huwag mong kalilimutang Kristiyano ka. Kahit anino mo lang, dala mo ang pangalan ng Panginoong Hesus. Mas mahalaga iyan kaysa apelyido ng lolo mo.

2 You are a product of love. Hindi ka magiging tao kung hindi nagtagpo ang mga taong naging instrumento kung bakit nandito ka. Ang Nanay mo at ang Tatay mo. At kahit nagtagpo man sila, kung hindi sila nagmamahalan, hindi ka rin mabubuo. Hindi ka isang aksidente. Produkto ka ng pag-iibigan.

3 You are beautiful. Kahit sinungaling ang salamin, ako hindi magsisinungaling. You are beautiful because you are God’s masterpiece. You are beautiful because your heart is. At kung hindi sila maniniwala, basta para sa akin ikaw ang Miss Universe!

4 You are free. Nasa iyo na ngayon ang laya para mamili kung ano ang dapat at bagay sa iyo. Regalo ng Diyos iyan, dahil mahal ka niya. Sa paggamit mo ng freedom mo, think of God first. His truth will always guarantee na hindi ka maikukulong ng kahit na anong kapangyarihan on earth.

5 You are rich. Maaaring hindi sa materyal na bagay. Maaaring hindi sa signature clothes or jewelries. Maaaring hindi sa mga personal possessions mo ngayon. But the Lord has put everything in the world at your disposal. Ikaw lang ang maghahanap ng susi kung paano mo makukuha ang mga riches na iyon.

6 You are (still) young. Bata ka pa at 18, marami ka pang mga bagay na dapat maunawaan at maintindihan. Hindi ibig sabihin nito na magagawa mo na ang lahat ng gusto mong gawin. Makikinig ka pa rin dapat sa mga payo ng may mga karanasan na. Ng mga taong galing na sa pupuntahan mo pa lang.

7 You must continue to learn. Hindi lang sa loob ng classrooms natatapos ang pag-aaral. Marami pang ibang itinuturo ang buhay. Maging listo ka. Maging observant sa paligid. Magtanong sa mga nakakatatanda at sa mga mahuhusay.

8 You must read more. Made-develop nang husto ang pag-iisip mo kung palagi kang magbabasa. Magbasa ka habang nakaupo sa tricycle, sa jeep, sa pedicab. Habang nagpapahinga o habang tumatae. Read newspapers, magazines, books. Ang daming libro sa bookshelves natin and they are for you to feast on. Above all, read the Bible.

9 You must choose friends you will keep for life. Ngayon pa lang, mag-umpisa ka nang mamili ng mga kaibigan na magiging kaibigan mo sa habang panahon. Ang paghahanap daw ng kaibigan ay parang paghahanap ng aspile sa isang bunton ng dayami. Mahirap, pero kayamanan naman kapag nahanap mo. At pipili ka lang ng mga kaibigan na kaya mong alagaan.

10 You must start saving. Hindi ka nag-iipon para lang may maibili ka ng bagong lipstick, o t-shirt para kay Jaymar, o pang-gimmick ng barkada, o pampanood ng sine. You save para sa kinabukasan mo. Kung magsisimula kang mag-save ng P100 per week, imagine kung magkanong pera mayroon ka pagtuntong mo ng 50 years old!

11 You must plan what you want to become. Nasa iyo ang choice kung ano ang gusto mong maging pag tumanda ka. Pero kahit na ano ang mga pangarap mo, dapat ngayon pa lang pinag-paplanuhan mo na. Kung gusto mo talagang maging singer (ewan ko lang ha?), eh di mag-aral. Kung gusto mong maging dancer, eh di mag-KALOOB. You have to want something bad enough for you to do everything possible to make them come true.

12 You must start practicing your social graces. Huwag uutot in public. Huwag mangungulangot habang nakasakay sa jeep. Huwag didighay nang malakas. Huwag mong kalilimutang babae ka kahit mukha kang lalaki. Kaya dapat, feminine ang kilos in all ways. Babastusin ka lang kung magpapa-bastos. Iwasan ang mga barkadang takaw-bastos. I-review ang book on public etiquette.

13 You must respect your body. Kapag tumibok ang puso mo at gustong sumunod ng katawan mo, remember that the Holy Spirit dwells in you. Huwag magpapatangay sa emotions. By respecting your body, hindi mo siya isu-surrender sa kahit na anong tukso. IIngatan mo ito. Aalagaan mo ito. At gagawin mo ang lahat para protektahan ang karangalan mo bilang babae.

14 You must exercise your right and your duties as citizen of this country. Kung hindi ka pa registered voter, dapat magpa-rehistro ka na. May isang boto ka at gagamitin mo ito sa maayos na paraan. Huwag mong ibebenta ang boto mo. Pag kumikita ka na, magbayad ng tax. Huwag magtapon ng basura sa kalye. Pag nagtanim ka ng love for country, babalik iyan sa iyo.

15 You must surrender your gifts, your time, your treasure to the Church. Hindi ka lang dapat sa school mayroong extra-curricular activities. Dapat i-develop mo pa ang mga talents mo para ma-offer sa Panginoon. The Lord is the source of everything you have and of everything you are. Dapat lang na ibalik mo sa Kanya ang para sa Kanya. You say you love the Lord? Prove it.

16 You must guard yourself. Kasama na dito ang pag-uugali, ang moods, ang pagkasuplada, ang buong pagkatao. Everytime na haharap ka kahit kanino – makikilala ka sa pamamagitan ng ugali mo. Watch what you see on TV, sa sine, sa paligid. Watch what comes into your ears lalo na kung tsismis at paninirang-puri. Watch what comes out of your mouth specially hurting words. Do not be emotional. The heart is deceitful above all things, and beyond cure. Kaya gamitin ang utak, lalo na kung mayroon ka nito!!! God sees what you do, hears what you say, knows what you think!

17 You must love your family. Huwag kang masiraan ng loob na hindi kayo buo. Wala kang kasalanan doon. Ang mahalaga, buo ang pagkatao mo. Understand and love your parents in spite of their faults. Huwag mong isiping kulang ka sa pagmamahal, because that is a lie. Mahal ka ng Tatay mo. Mahal ka ng Nanay mo. Mahal ka ni Jaymar. At siyempre, mahal kita. Darating ang panahon na hindi na magiging mahalaga kung mayroon kang pagmamahal na tinatanggap, dahil matututunan mong ang mas mahalaga ay hindi ka nauubusan ng pagmamahal ng ibibigay.


At huli sa lahat,

18 You must not forget: nandito ako. Hindi ko alam kung ano ang mga puwede o mga hindi ko puwedeng maibigay sa iyo bilang kapalit ng Tatay at Nanay mo. Hindi ko alam kung hanggang saan aabot ang pagsasama natin sa iisang bubong. Hindi ko alam kung ano ang mangyayari sa mga darating na panahon. Basta ang alam ko sa ngayon, kahit na ano ang problema mo, ang pangangailangan mo, ang mga pangarap mo, ang mga tagumpay man o kabiguan mo – nandito lang ako. At habang nandito ka sa akin, ipinapangako kong iingatan kita, aalagaan kita, mamahalin kita dahil regalo ka ng Diyos sa akin.



HAPPY BIRTHDAY, ANAK!
8 August 2002

LPMHS BATCH 76

Truth be told, we actually only spent a minuscule period of four years together – far too short to even build a career on. And yet, it remains inexplicable what enormous joy reunion brings to a batch of high school graduates who took center stage a month short of summer nearly three decades ago! Tayo yun!

Trotting away from the 1976 arena, we have made lives distinct and separate from the pony-tailed giggly girls and croaking-like-toad boisterous boys we once were. Some of us have climbed up corporate ladders and are now ensconced as prime movers in top 100 corporations. Some of us have seen and explored the world far beyond the boundaries of Las Piñas. Some of us have boldly marched towards the independence of personal businesses, notwithstanding personal losses and gains. Some of us may have even dipped their toes into the murky waters of politics. And some of us, for lack of rhyme and reason, have chosen to sit by and watch the others shine.

Many have raised their own families, bringing forth offspring that will ensure continuity and longevity of surnames. Many have fallen in and crashed out of love. Some have chosen to live outside of marital commitments and are absolutely fulfilled. And a few have had the misfortune of mismatched partnerships.

Some have passed away and left legacies of goodwill. Some departed unnoticed and without fanfare. Some dreamed of success and became successful. Some looked at dreams from a distance and remained daydreamers. Some fought and won battles. Some won even without putting up a fight. Some just lost.

We have met people – an assortment of them. Friends. Lovers. Partners. Idols. Colleagues. Bosses. Subordinates. People who we came to know and appreciated beyond the parade grounds of our Alma Mater. People who we shared our dreams with long after our juvenile years have passed. People who we have been adults with. And like it or not, the way we think, speak, and operate have been either blown up or whittled down not only by our own capacity to use our God-given faculties but also our day-to-day interaction and association with them.

Which is why it is both baffling and heartwarming that the reunion of our almost-fossilized species can ignite such coziness and teen-aged spontaneity. In view of what had been our multi-faceted inter-personal relationships with multitude of people outside of our “fences”, what is it about our high school friendship that draws us back to relive times past? A lot of people attest to this one truth: the best daw ang high school times! Will anyone dare contest that?

High school ushered us into a world of transformation. A world of many firsts. We snaked out of the child’s skin and put on the wolf-like countenance of an adult, albeit, a bit too abruptly and impatiently. We were young but we wanted to act old. We thought we were wise but we actually knew nothing. We tried to outsmart our elders but always proved ourselves inexperienced. We were passionate in our actions and speech even if we lacked wisdom and commitment. We wanted to be heard but oftentimes refused to listen. We had no money but we had fun! Happiness had no price tag back then!

We learned to bond and tasted the sweetness of developing unions with like-minded rascals. We won’t forget the Tropang Gutom of yore and its notoriety and mischief. We were tickled pink when hearts gushed and eyes oozed at the sight of a secretly-adored crush. We won’t forget how many girls swooned every time Robert Montenegro passed by. We liked being treated and respected as equal by more experienced people who inspired us and made us look forward expectantly towards adulthood. We won’t forget afternoons at Ka Pony’s, Liza’s and Nene’s booths as we munched left-over banana-Qs and buco juice. We discovered the value of money and the sadness of its scarcity. We won’t forget how we scrounged extra allowances from each other’s pockets for projects that needed doing and for social gatherings that needed attending.

We were taught grammar, literature, science and math. We got confused with geometric formulas, trigonometric sines and cosines, and simple algebra. We got even more confused with the agreement between subject and predicate and the difference between conjunctions and prepositions. We were bored with Shakespearian sonnets and pored over Gregorio Zaide’s Philippine history notes, unquestioningly. We first heard of Nick Joaquin, a.k.a. Quijano de Manila and were thrilled with Edgar Allan Poe’s Cask of Amontillado. We read Old English classics like Beowulf but did not pay attention to Jose Rizal’s Crisostomo Ibarra in Noli Me Tangere and Simoun in El Filibusterismo because nobody explained to us the significance of such literary masterpieces. We shone and stole the show in military competitions even if we were not as disciplined as our mentors had hoped for us to be. We were competitive. We were carefree.

High school did not teach us the Absolutes of life – there is nothing absolute in the first place, save God. The academics made us literate, but did not teach us who we were and who we will be. It did not teach us everything we needed to know about life either; in fact, it taught us a lot of things we did not need in actual life. But what it did was prepare us for the challenges ahead. It wove us into the roots of our personhood. It directed us into the Act 1, Scene 1 of exploring ourselves and the endless possibilities that lay ahead. It offered us myriad of choices and preferences. It removed all barricades that boxed us within imposed limitations. It opened our eyes to the kaleidoscopic spectrum of adulthood just around the bend. We were boundless. We were free.

Could these then, be the reasons why excitement spring in the air every time we meet? Why we never seem to get tired of each other’s company? Could it be that we gain comfort seeing our lives vicariously mirrored through the lives of each batch mate? How, for better or worse, we are able to measure the distance we’ve ran and the peaks we’ve climbed through the accomplishments and failures of others? Could it also be that being together transports us back to that magical once-upon-a-time when our world was a little younger and mounting bills, career moves, broken relationships were all but distant nightmares? Where we, for the briefest of time, forget the gloomy responsibilities of adulthood and relive the youthful vitality of adolescent pleasures yet again?

Truth be told? I honestly do not know.

JOSE MIGUEL

you burst into this world
demanding attention
with your cries,
loud and
urgent.
compelling everyone to notice
the grandeur of your entrance.
did you matter at all?
even out of a fall?

you were born of love
in love, through love
by that same power
love
and no matter
what others unkindly say
don't let anything
make you feel
any less
about yourself.

make your voice
and your noise
be heard all the time
as you state
reason
invoke
speak
defend
praise
the reason for your being.

today
i celebrate you
and the God you gave me you.

THE BEGINNING

there... just did it. whoever articulated the thought that my brain is too small for "big" things like creating a blog? this is going to be the home of my thoughts. the refuge of my frustrations. the sanctuary of my unspoken ideas.

and just as a thousand words begin to spin in my head, i could not grasp which ones to catch and start to write down with. ironic.