Komik Kon-ing

The 3rd Filipino Komiks Convention was held today at the UP Bahay ng Alumni and I was there for the following reasons:

1. I wanted to keep my word to my good berk, Jo, that we’ll go together this year.

2. PDI didn’t need me. (Not really a good thing. For the one concerned, please need me again soon. I’m almost always free for you.) Needless to say, I suddenly had the time to attend on non-profitable matters. (By "non-profitable" I mean something that doesn't generate money/wage for me.)

3. I had extra cash—or so I thought.

4. I was hoping to have my Kikomachine Komix Blg. 2 and 3 (if ever I find one) signed. (Kikomachine Komix Blg. 1 is a done-deal, thanks to Kate who had it signed for me a couple of years ago.) And while I’m at it, I wish to have my Beerkwatro signed, too.

5. I needed to see this event for myself. It really is the curiosity factor kicking in.

* * *

With around four hours of sleep coupled with strained limbs from yesterday’s activity, I almost backed out of today’s agenda. I was low in power but I was bound by the five conditions I listed above so I went ahead, chugging a glass of mocha latte granita to hopefully energize what was left of me.

One cab ride later, I found myself Komik Kon-ing with “experts.”

My head must have blown up and turned green while my eyes’ pupils stretched from my forehead down to my jaw because as I would not hesitate to admit it, I felt like the odd creature in a sea of komik enthusiasts. And the thing is, I was afraid that whatever I say might desecrate any existing komik tradition, that whatever comes out of my mouth will be pure sacrilege because unlike them, I don’t venerate komiks that much.

My berk, Jo—a certified komiks and more accurately, anime follower—being lured from one table to another while I’m looking at the opposite direction didn’t help. She was the only element that kept me connected to the event and so losing her beside me triggers a slight wave of panic in my little miss paranoid brain.

It was culture shock, to say the least. I hardly felt like I belonged in there. I had to get out of the hall, take a breather, and eat ice cream.

Then I proceeded on resetting my expectations as I entered the komik premises once more.

The cartoonist of Kikomachine was nowhere to be found. It is a shame if we didn't see him because to tell the truth, he is the only cartoonist I could have identified if there were plenty of them presented right before me. This is perhaps how mangmang I am to the culture I braved to explore.


Jo decided to browse on some DVDs, making sure that this time, she doesn’t leave me alone, clueless.

Later we approached the Beerkada booth from where I bought a surprise gift to a friend, hoping to have it signed along with my old copy of Beerkwatro. Unfortunately, I only know Lyndon Gregorio through his cartoon self-portrait. I almost mistook another guy who was sitting in their booth as him. Good thing Mr. Gregorio was wearing a name tag. Still, I had to rely on another buyer who asked for his “autograph” to confirm the cartoonist’s identity. You know, I can never be too sure.

I know Beerkada’s Psychocow, talked to him in person and even developed a semi-crush towards him once (I’m hoping he’ll never get to read this. And chances are, he probably won’t. Psychocow, that is.), but I don’t know the real face behind the pseudonym (or is it?) of the creator of Beerkada.

“Can you please sign my books?” I remember saying it nicely as soon as I confirmed who the cartoonist was.

Mr. Gregorio put down my books, got a pen and asked my name. (Or did he ask my name? I am no longer sure.) By this time, he was rather acting obnoxiously towards a supposed fan who happens to be me. But, boy, I am not his fan. I just wanted to increase the worth of the book I bought in the past, thus explaining why I approached him.

I somehow began not to like Mr. G. I got the impression that he was slightly bitching me around. Will someone please tell him to be friendlier? Then again, he may just remind me of a particular person I am not so fond of whose name starts and ends with a U which explains why, by association, I am judging Mr. G.

But I did appreciate him drawing a cartoon me along with his signature. Of course, him staring at me then to his drawing, then to me, then to his drawing wasn’t anything I’d be ecstatic about. But I was grateful for the gesture just the same.

Take note of his message. Apparently nasayahan pala siya!

He put down my book afterwards and showed no intentions of signing the other book I was hoping to give my friend. For the sake of the gift, I requested him to sign the freshly bought book. “Eto pa po, para sa kaibigan kong si (name withheld for the sake of the surprise).”

He signed and that was it.

That probably is it.

If you get my drift.

* * *


Having been familiar with Pugad Baboy (Well, who doesn’t know Pugad Baboy?), it was most definitely an honor watching Pol Medina, write me a message in my own (and first) copy of his book.

Pol Medina, no doubt, is congenial, compared to others. He even cared enough to thank me and punctuate his thank-you with “Tyrene.”

Waiting in line to see Pol Medina.

Finally he signs my book.

Note the message he opted to write. Incidentally, not too long ago I was a jedi.

* * *

The next course of action was to take Jo’s picture in front of the Culture Crash tarpaulin, find the Kikomachine Komix maker then go home.

But as luck would have it, the Manix encounter came before the Culture Crash photo.

“Ayan na sya!” Imagine me saying this with an intensity no entity on earth will think of as a whisper.

“Alin?” Jo asked while surveying what I was referring to.

“Ayun. Naka-red.” Jo soon realized who I was looking at. We then approached him.

“Meron pa ba kayo nito?” I was pointing at the Kikomachine Komix Blg. 3 poster.

“Sorry, wala na e.” Manix Abrera apologized. I bet that felt great on his part! (The sold-out book, I mean.)

“Dahil dyan, etong lumang libro na lang ang ipapa-sign namin.” I said while Jo and I unearthed our copies of Kikomachine Komix Blg. 2.

Manix, the Kikomachine cartoonist, was pleasant, much like Pol Medina. I pushed my luck. “Tapos, picture tayo.”

He then squeezed himself within the frame captured by my cellphone.



Before Jo and I left, I had to step back and ask Manix, with whom I have had no interaction with prior to the one I am narrating, “Kapatid mo siya?” I was referring to the young girl seated beside him.

He said yes.

I said, “Magkamukha kasi kayo.” You see sometimes, I really can’t stop myself from saying my thoughts.

I think Manix smiled.

Jo laughed.

“Shet, maki-chika ba?!?” I blurted out to Jo as soon as I realized how I had just been too friendly to a stranger.


* * *

I took Jo’s picture in the less than solitary tarp. Then we took some more pictures outside. After which, we decided to go for a UP Ikot…on foot. It was a good geographic exercise to UP Los Baños dwellers such as ourselves.





Our feet gave up and so we grabbed another cab to head to the real errand for the day which didn’t really go the way we wanted to. But it wasn’t so bad because at least we found the chance to explore Manila—at night!

And who would have thought that after yesterday and today's adventures, I’d still be awake at this time?

Perhaps Komik Kon-ing does have its magic!

When Death Stole Christmas

I seriously worry how my family and I will celebrate Christmas now that Nichi is gone.

I don’t know.

Things really won’t be the same again for all of us.

I also worry about Migs. He and Nichi always open their gifts together. Now that Nichi's gone, Christmas will be especially different for Migs, too.

If only I can take my family far away to distract all of us from what is no longer there…

* * *
I’m posting some videos from last Christmas.

Here you’ll see Christmas anticipation through Nichi’s eyes. Well, sort of.


Next is a clip where Nichi and Migs open my Christmas gift for them. Their reactions, put together, never fail to make my Christmas complete.


Finally, Nichi sings a Christmas song by Jaya which may have sounded sooo cheesy back then but surely does capture what our Christmas will be this year.


Therefore, Paano na nga ba ang Pasko kung wala ka?

Let’s Make a Group of Extra Special Kids Happy This Christmas!

For as low as P25.00, you can help us paint a smile on the faces of the Hematology Out-Patient Department (OPD) kids of the Philippine Children’s Medical Center (PCMC) this coming Christmas.

They are the 150 (estimate count) extra special children, ages 2 to 12, who, at their tender age, are faced with serious illnesses such as Leukemia, Thalassemia, and tumors.

With enough funds, we can present this group of exceptionally brave children gifts containing art materials, stickers and toys—all of which will do a lot in taking their young minds off the gravity of their diseases and the tortures of their treatment.

The target date for the distribution of gifts is on December 7, 2007 (Friday) in time for the children’s Christmas party to be held inside PCMC. The purchasing of gifts is scheduled on November 16, 2007 (Friday).

Any amount or any material contributions added to the gift packs will surely mean a lot to these kids. And it will be most appreciated if all monetary donations will be in before the date of purchasing of gifts (November 16, 2007). Any item you wish to include in the gift packs must be turned in before December 7, 2007 to allow enough time for wrapping the gifts.

This project is not run by any foundation. It is pursued by a group of people inspired by a courageous young man named Nichi who once expressed how sad it is to wait in line at the PCMC-OPD for his chemotherapy. Being absorbed in drawing definitely helped him forget his health hurdles. Nichi may have lost his six-year battle against leukemia but with our joint efforts, his life and death, as well as of those children who shared the same fate as his, will not be in vain because it will lead to something good.

Just like Nichi did, his friends, the extra special children of the PCMC-OPD, are carrying more than they should. Their lives have become beyond normal because of the treatment they have to go through on a regular basis.

Join us in working together to erase these brave children’s worries even for a while. Let’s make these extra special kids happy this Christmas!

Interested parties may email me at battik14@yahoo.com. (Please indicate "Happy kids this Christmas" on the subject line so that I won't take your email as spam by mistake. Thanks!)

Who's that girl?

Isang buwan na siya!

And she's wearing some of the stuff I got her... click here to see what I'm talking about

Great Find!

If you are in dire need of a good laugh, then check out this line of nail polish collecting dust in the shelves of Mini Stop, Watson's and maybe even in the convenience store near you.



It's Mwah! nail color by Chic. But Mwah! isn't the best part. The shades it offers are just ingenious!



Here you see just some of them: Brad Pink, Antonio Lavanderas, and Orlando Blue. Imagine your nails painted with Hollywood heartthrobs!

But of course, Pinoy male crushes ng bayan also have their place in the Mwah! nail color line. And I assume that the Pinoy idols sell since I was only left with these two:

...Mark Herrust and Jericho Rose!

Aren't they adorable? They should have been called, stars in a bottle.

Apparently, what Chic did to Mwah! is an effective marketing strategy because, look, I already bought 5 just for the sheer pleasure of collecting them!

For the entertainment I got, I'd say it's money well spent!

(Expect me to have colorful nails on the coming days, though.)

Surviving Undas

Halloween, All Saints’ Day and All Souls’ Day have all become one long painful holiday for me.

Yes because of them, I and a lot more of us got a chance to take the time off from whatever we do. And long paid weekends are one of the best things in any worker’s life. But the two extra days of rest granted us have their purpose: for honoring the holy souls that intercede for us and, to simply place it, remembering the dead.

Funny how little effort it would require me, and perhaps the rest of my family in remembering our dead. Why? Because we haven’t forgotten him. Nichi. Our dead.



The pain we are nursing is still as fresh as it was three months ago.

I’m starting to believe that forgetting the dead is more difficult than remembering. At this point, saying that this season is salt rubbed to our fresh, throbbing wound is really nothing but stating the obvious. But since we were the ones who lived, we have the obligation to get through whatever life throws at us. Be it easy or difficult, we are supposed to survive if only to let the spirit of our departed loved-one left inside each one of us live.

I tried to amuse myself the evening of Halloween by being with my friends. But meeting and having dinner with them at the mall just exposed me to kids in costumes thereby reminding me of Nichi, the only one of us, five siblings, who got to go trick or treating in our neighborhood.


He was actually the one who insisted to join the others kids who were all younger than he was. And he, being 10 years old at that time, was pretty much obvious for he was the tallest kid sticking out in a line of tiny kids in costume.

Nichi whipped up his own costume. He didn’t try to be some hero. Instead, he sported a scary him. I’ve got to admit that we all felt sorry for him. At the same time, we admired his efforts, thus explaining why, at the last minute, we all worked to improve on the white powder he initially applied on his face. It probably is Nichi’s magic: pulling us all together when we’d rather not care.

Halloween slowly crept but I tried to shove it off by being absorbed in hilarious conversations with my friends. But then the topic went to one of my friend’s family (who, by the way, is the reason for our get-together), then to her dad and her youngest sister.

The youngest must by nature be the heart of every family, if not all. And the energy and life of my friend’s youngest sister tapped my inner grieving heart. Unbeknownst to me, our other friend was feeling the same way that I did, except that her grieving heart was touched by the dad aspect of the stories.

I tried to buy myself more time in the company of my friends by inviting them for a sleepover. At least I didn’t have to deal with the spirit of the season, not until they left after breakfast.




At 7 am, I went to Nichi’s ossuary by myself. I didn’t realize that the emotions I was trying to hold back will get to me while staring at Nichi’s sort of tombstone.

I know he’s dead. In fact, I was there when he released his last breath. But I still fool myself into thinking that it may all be a bad dream. Honestly, losing him remains to be surreal. That’s why realizing that I was standing in front of my youngest brother’s grave in the morning of November 1st is a real kick in the head or heart—whichever is more painful. In a matter of seconds, I was in tears which was embarrassing because there was another family in the ossuary at that time. I turn my back from them to conceal my pain.

But then, crying alone is better than being with what-is-left-of-my-family. I would hate to infect them with my sadness. So at least my morning tears saved me from bursting later in the afternoon when my dad, my brothers and I came to see Nichi.

I know it is not a good idea detaching myself from the times by going out after the visit at the ossuary and by watching a movie with my brothers. Even me immersing myself to a movie marathon this afternoon isn’t something I’m proud of. But this season has its way of magnifying my grief. And just as my friend who lost her dad says, everyday is November 1st except when there’s something or someone to distract you.

I had to indulge with those distractions just to survive the so-called Undas. But that doesn’t mean I was saved from the short pauses of life caused by my longing to be with Nichi.

Right now, I have one hour and 35 minutes left to keep myself distracted. All Soul’s day will be over soon. Hopefully, the magnitude of my pain will decrease.

Until then, I’ll have my everydays to deal with.

I guess, I’ll worry about Christmas later.

On All Hallows Eve

All Hallows Eve or as modern times may call it, Halloween, found me sitting on a bench while gazing at the stars amidst the light-polluted heavens of Ortigas.

No, I wasn’t drunk—like that’s even going to happen. I had my caffeine fix which kept me wide awake in the company of the living. And the stars that decorated the night—or midnight—would have made Halloween romantic rather than spooky had it not for what I was wearing. While my friends wore decent, fashionable clothes and those that pass by us sport colorful costumes, I was in my frigging uniform.

But my NOT being dressed for the occasion makes me dressed for the occasion. As I would put it now, my costume for the night happened to be that of an employee. So when we bumped unto a former college classmate who asked us what we do nowadays, I told him I was actually a bum.

So the stars stood witness as we made fun of ourselves and of others which is really, really worth it especially at this time of year when things are especially different for me.

As I see it, laughing is better than what the Celtics, the original foreparents of Hallows Eve, did in driving away ghosts, goblins and witches which they believed returns and mingles with the living at around this season. But then again, the Celtic masks and bonfires have today evolved into the wearing of costumes and lighting of candles so who am I to say that their gimmick in the past was a bad idea?

Ancient people really threw in a lot of effort to shoo away the souls of the dead. It just goes to show how humans inherently repel those associated with death or dying—something which is ironically an integral part of living.

I guess, it’s not the ghosts they and us are really trying to evade. It’s the idea of the coming of death that spooks us all. I mean, don’t you agree that dying—whether it’s us or anyone dear to us—is a hundred times scarier than saying, “Hi!” to a monster?

I should know…

Still I don’t think spirits would bother to return to our world for no good reason. No matter how I look at it, they are better off up there, sitting comfortably in the twinkling thrones they earned while living. Because just like little Simba, I was brainwashed by King Mufasa that they who have come and gone before us, they are in the stars, constantly looking down on us, checking if we are doing well.

So really, Hallows Eve is a great time to celebrate the uncut connections between the living and the dead. It marks the beginning of the moment when we can talk to our departed loved ones without being judged insane or without anyone feeling sorry for us.

For that, we can indeed be glad. I therefore leave you with this, “Happy Halloween, everyone!”