The Brighter Side of Life

Para kaming nalugi ng Ate ko nang isnabin kami ng kababaihan ng immigration dito kahapon. Nag-“taho” pa naman kami! Actually, hindi naman sila nagtaray or anything. It’s just that hinarang nila ang aming supposed appeal, even before we were given the chance to explain. Hindi man lang kami inisyuhan ng number sa queue para naman makachika man lang namin ang officers.

Therefore, ano pa nga ba ang magagawa ko kung hindi umuwi, earlier than the day I originally prepared myself to go home.

Nakakapanghina lang yung mga implikasyon ng pangyayaring ito. Si Ate naman nagawa pang mag-moment, “Paano na yan? Wala ka sa birthday ni Yzee. Wala na akong partner in crime.”

Guho ang mga pangarap. (What’s new? E tema naman ng buhay ko yan. Konti na lang sanay na ako.)

“Bakit ka natatawa?” tinanong tuloy ako ni Ate.

“E kesa naman umiyak ako.” Pero sa totoo, mahirap matawa noong mga sandaling yon. Actually even until now. “Brighter side of life tayo. You’re not helping.”

Talaga namang hindi ko kayang kontrolin and universe na napapansin kong talaga namang type na type akong i-crush. Masaya ba? Masaya bang i-mock ako at ang mga attempt kong i-prove ang sarili ko? Sana kung hindi ako favorite ng universe, wag naman niya akong pag-initan. Please lang.

Pero brighter side tayo, di ba? I would hate to give the universe the pleasure of seeing me wallow in my most recent failure (I’m doing away with the “misadventure” euphemism.) kaya heto’t hahalukayin ko ang beauty of the situation.

1. Uuwi na ako! Yey. Makakanood na ako ulit ng mas maraming GMA shows at real time na ang Project Runaway Philippines. (Di ko na pagtatyagaan ang puny screen ng Youtube—pixelized kasi pag full-screen.) Makakapag-Megamall na ako ulit. (How jologs am I?) Sa Pilipinas na ako ulit magpapaka-taong grasa.

2. Yung mga nagsabing mamimiss nila ako at sinabihan kong mamimiss ko sila, well magkakasama na naman tayo sa isang island kaya forget na ang miss-miss.

3. I’ll be home for Christmas. Hindi ko mamiss ang Pasko sa Pinas! Wala lang nga akong pera pero madali namang magsabi ng, “patawad” sa mga nangangaroling.

4. In line with #4, pwede ako ulit makigulo sa Christmas party ng mga bata sa PCMC. Mga ilang days pa lang ako dito, napanaginipan ko ba naman na Christmas party na daw ng mga kids tapos hindi ako prepared in anyway. Nyak!

5. Nakabakasyon ako ng 90 days. Para sa isang katulad ko, chance of a lifetime na ito. Yes, matapos kong mamatayan ng kapatid, mabugbog sa semi-depression, mag-voluntary subsob sa tatlong trabaho, at hikain na nga sa stress, nakarelaks din. Syempre sa kaka-relaks, tumaba ako. What do you expect the 90 days will do to me?

6. Nakapasyal naman ako. Sa Singapore pa! Dami ko ring napuntahan at kayang puntahan nang mag-isa. Ang dami ko ring bagong nakain. (Salamat sa aking mga sponsors!) Wala akong sangkatutak na picture at nabili pero oks lang. At least pag-uwi ko, hindi ako masasabihan ng, “anong ginawa mo doon, nagpa-peek-tyur?” (hehehe.)

7. Narealize ko na, shet, gusto ko talagang magtrabaho. Hindi ako tambay material. At nahasa na ako sa pag-aapply at pag-iinterview. Unfortunately, hindi mabenta ang beauty ko dito. So shet ulit. (Pardon the profanity.)

8. Naalala ko na ang mga “chocolate” ko. Since clean slate ako, pwede ko nang i-pursue ulit ang mga dati ko nang gustong gawin. (Wag lang ako uunahan ng universe sa mga targets ko. Shet sya.) At pwede ko nang gawan ng paraan ang pagsikat ko sa Pilipinas. (Wiiish ko laangg!)

9. Hindi man ako matuloy maging emcee sa first birthday ng pamangkin ko at di man ako makapag-juggle, among other things (top secret kasi ang pakulo), nakalaro ko naman siya for three months. Oks na yon. Tapos, pwede ko pang asikasuhin ang iba pa niyang birthday gimiks sa Pinas para ipadala dito.

10. Sasakay ako ulit ng airplane. Ang saya. Talaga.

Sabi ng utol ko, dapat daw sinigaw ko sa immigration, "I did not kill anybody!!!" Ay di kaya sa Changi Prison din ang bagsak ko kung nag-amok ako? Wag lang akong matuluyang ma-Flor Contemplacion. Que horor!

By the way, hindi ko na rin pala kering mag-tour guide sa utol ko na yon dito. Another shet. Looking forward pa naman ako sa possible wacky pictures namin. And here I was pondering na hindi ko man lang sya malilibre dito dahil nga ala pa rin akong work. Yun pala di talaga kami makakapasyal dito together. Hopefully, makatambay pa rin kami ng matagal sa Pinas together. Kami at si Migs. In fairness, na miss ko ang aming occasional slacking sa isang kwarto. Buhay na wala lang pero, given the situation, ay masaya na rin.

Medyo surreal ang pangyayari at ang aking sort of defeat. Kahit ako, kinailangang mag-pause at sabihin ang madalas sabihin sa channel 2, "Verum est: Totoo ba ito?"

So ito ang first of five stages. Ang denial wrapped with a sweet dose of bitterness.

Be Careful what you Pray for

Last night I clasped my hands and prayed, harder than I normally do.

I prayed for my immediate future, for things to be clearer to me, for things to work the way they should be. I prayed that I be saved from limbo, from the anticipation of things to come, if indeed they will come.

I pleaded for things to work out. I enumerated my intentions and explained that they are good, so I really would very much appreciate it if things worked out they way they are expected to, given the situation.

I prayed for a sign. A sign for a promising future. One that will be in harmony with my intentions.

Today I got my answer. My in-your-face-answer.

I have been somewhat absolved from limbo, but not the way I hoped to be. Things are clearer and are probably going the way they should be. Not necessarily the way I pictured them, but what can I do?

I prayed a lot of things last night. But I forgot to pray for one thing. I didn’t ask to be granted sufficient courage to accept the answers to the prayers I prayed for.

Quite frankly, I wasn’t ready for this.

I could have used the 20 more days I tried asking for.

I’ve Been to Paradise but I’ve Never Been to Mint

This afternoon, I tagged along Ate Win at her search for party paraphernalia for little Yzee’s coming first birthday.

We went to a place called Bras Basah Complex. You get to it by alighting at the City Hall MRT station, then by walking away from Raffles City—that is, facing the SMRT Headquarters and with Raffles City behind you, head to your right. That will be North Bridge road. Walk past Chjimes and the Raffles Hotel. You are then soon to spot Bras Basah Complex, a building that resembles the old Greenhills, only this has a Chinese theme.

Bras Basah Complex houses at least three arts and crafts stores which are more of paradise to me. Sure their prices are way expensive compared to ours but they sell several thingamajigs, not found in our country, the kind that brings arts and crafts supplies junkies, like myself, to a high.

Outside Bras Basah Complex there is a sign that points to Mint Museum of Toys. I wasn’t able to go there. It wasn’t in the day’s itinerary.


Actually, Bras Basah Complex was good enough for me. I would have liked to buy myself something from there but it wasn’t in my budget.

Stand Up to Cancer

“This is where the end of Cancer Begins.”



I cannot help but feel nostalgic over this PSA (Public Service Announcement) that had been playing at the Entertainment Channel. When I woke up today, I was able to catch the latter part of the Stand up to Cancer fundraiser show. I felt just as nostalgic. It isn’t difficult to understand why.

The first death in the family I was ever aware of was the death of my dad’s nanay. She had cancer. I think it’s the same one Former President, Cory Aquino, has, colon cancer. Nanay Isay was 78 years old when she died.

The most recent death I had to deal with can also be blamed on cancer. Cancer of the blood. Leukemia. My brother, the victim, the casualty, was only 13.

Cancer shows no mercy. It isn’t exclusive to old, worn-out bodies. It doesn’t claim only those who are devoid of zest for life.

Is cancer nature’s way of eliminating people to make sure we don’t overcrowd our planet? That I would not know.

But I know this, it sucks to lose someone over cancer. I especially hate feeling powerless, not being able to save the one you love from the frigging tortures of cancer. But things happen, even if we’d rather that they don’t.

The crusade to fight cancer, one similar to Stand up for Cancer, is somehow our chance to get back at cancer. To give justice to our loved-ones who lost their lives because of it. To make sure no one we know will have to suffer the same way they did.

I’m glad celebrities are using their fame for causes like this. It makes their pretty faces and glistening smiles worth something bigger and better.

I can’t do much from where I am right now. But I am, in my own way, standing up.

Because this just might be the where the end of cancer begins.

I'm all for that. (To hell with I am Legend's premise!)

I Have Two Zits

The left and the right.

The first one rests in between my eyebrows, just at the top part of my nose bridge. The one to its right hides behind the right nose pad of my eyeglasses.

I hate zits! They don’t look nice and they hurt, especially if you scratch them by mistake.

Some people seem to be zit-free all their life. They’re lucky! Not everyone gets to have a pristine face.

Zits visit my face every once in a while, by two’s or three’s or was there a set of four? They especially like my nose—the tip of my nose to make me look like a witch or the parts touched by my eyeglasses—nose bridge and temples. I think my eyeglasses sometimes irritate my skin.

One time, I got this humongous zit. I knew it would distract my students if I would stand in front of them when a red circle is screaming on my face. I opted to forgo my contacts and wear my eyeglasses instead. That way, I had a valid excuse to cover my zit.

One student asked, “Miss, why are you wearing eyeglasses?”

I wanted to reply, “All the better to see you with.”

But I restrained myself. It must have been the zit talking.

So what’s for breakfast?

Half a glass of coffee-flavored milk—to wake up my sleepy brain without messing up with my heart nor my stomach, a slice of chocolate cake—to make me smile, and, my constant companion, The Straits Times Classified Ads—to hopefully land me a decent job.




Some comments on The Straits Times:


Their sheets are more colorful than ours. The publishers of this paper invest on more of their pages than we usually do back home. Well, they should. After all, each issue costs S$ 0.80 (Php 27.00). If there’s anything, their Saturday issue, the one with a thousand job openings and ads, may well weigh up to one pound if not heavier. You’d think that by now they're using special ink, one that doesn’t stain the hands as much as our papers do, but apparently they remained traditionally messy in that aspect.

However, the articles found in The Straits Times are not as pressing as those found in our papers but we cannot blame them. This country is so peaceful, nothing seems to happen. International news even outnumber the local ones. Kind of makes you appreciate the action-packed daily dose of news we get in the Philippines, huh? And don’t even get me started on their showbiz chikka—that is, if there is a showbiz bit for the day to begin with.

Reading the paper here makes one realize how laid back this country is, how pampered their citizens are (recurrent news often cover the issue on baby bonus and other means to encourage child-bearing among citizens—nauubos na yata ang lahi nila!), how hooked on technology locals can be (the ads and techie news say it all), and how health-conscious people around here are. Compared with the contents of our broadsheets, theirs seem Zen.

Turn to the opinions page and you'll see that although their writers go critical about political and social issues, their voices seem to always sound safe. There may be two reasons for this: one, press freedom around here is not as lax as ours and, two, there is not much reason to fume about the indiscretions of their government. There really is no need to rant. Our Pinoy columnists should feel blessed because most likely, they wouldn’t run out of intellectually stimulating topics to analyze, criticize, attack or lecture on.

But then, The Straits Times ought to do better at their editing. I mean, hey, I wasn’t happy reading the word “Filippino” the first time; it had to happen again. Occasional typographical errors are distracting, even for a non-grammar Nazi. The Philippine Daily Inquirer Classifieds and Obituaries section presents more perfect pages. (Eherm!) Maybe The Straits Times should hire more efficient proofreaders. I don’t know, me perhaps?

Haha.

My God, I’m Everywhere!

I was walking along Orchard Road where certain streets are closed because of on-going construction. I could not help but mutter to myself, “What’s wrong with this country? Why is it perennially under construction?” When I looked up, I almost peed on my pants out of shock. I saw this:



“What the f***!? Who leaked my photo and what is it doing there???”

* * *

It’s the same feeling I got when a close friend of mine texted me to tell me to check out the latest cover of Vogue.



Needless to say, I was blown away.

* * *

It’s not like having my face published is very slim. A few years ago, my family were astonished to discover that my brothers made it to the cover of a newspaper in Minnesota.



The publishers must have thought that the involvement of such young minds to politics is a milestone to human kind.

* * *

Meanwhile, on a street in London, this picture came out:




I heard that they were celebrating Bridesmaids' day.

* * *

At another part of the globe, a tarpaulin with my siblings and I are being put down.



I guess, our faces have served their purpose.

* * *

In one different street, though, my solo posters are starting to wither.



But I assure everyone that Oblation’s influence on me is more than intact.

* * *

On the other hand, my Intramurous billboard with my friends is going strong in one almost deserted road I'd rather not name.



* * *

Then there’s the other one at the subway.



Just like the Intramuros billboard, this one’s supposed to promote Philippine tourism among the younger crowd.

* * *

I can still remember the prank pulled by this dude years ago wherein he posted an almost life-sized tarpaulin of me and the rest of the stage managers for a play.



* * *

After everything, I am still not too psyched at the thought that my face is everywhere. I was pretty much panicking when I lost an envelope of freshly-printed photos of me. A source told me that the lost pictures were seen in the hands of a man who was drinking in a bar.



Perhaps after seeing my pictures, the man thought he was thirsty, too!

* * *

I didn’t mind, however, the photo of my family which was put up in a mall. I don’t think anyone will recognize me in that shot, anyway.



* * *

The same goes with an office picture which became part of a recent contemporary art exhibit.



It’s not like, in a normal day, I'd look like the way I looked in photo above.

* * *

I should stop this now. Or else I’ll being seeing me so much, I’d overdose myself.



* * *

So here is the punchline: Charing!

If you believed any of my stories above, well then you are crazier than I am. Somehow, that will be comforting to know!

Today’s venture is a product of sheer boredom and the addicting PhotoFunia phenomenon. You should try it. It’s fun.

For posterity’s sake, I made this one for my late brother/star, Nichi: