We make our own history. We record it so we can remember it all, from first sight to first kiss, from first date to first romance. 

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History, in its broadest sense, is the totality of all past events. To be politically correct, the totality of known past would be the more appropriate definition. And history is written by those who know how to look back, by those who have deeper understanding of the past, by those who have deeper appreciation of the past. And history is made by those who are in power, by those who can chart their own future, by those who can take their fate by the neck and steer it to wherever they roam.

You made history everyday and I diligently wrote it, recording it with sweat and blood. You made our lovestory a history of some sort, and you made me our history's historian. In your eyes, I am only a scribe recording the ways of a goddess and her slave. I admit, I am nothing to your powers, because I am beholden to your beauty and to your "goddessliness". As I see you defile me, mock me, love me, hate me, love me everyday, I am but reduced to a living specter, a mute spectator of our own journey, of our own quest called love.

I love you, I love our history, I love the story that we made, I love the story that I wrote. But what is the use of those thick annals, those numerous volumes gathering dust when the love is gone? When the one who is making history is no longer in the limelight? When the one writing the history is disillusioned and blinded and biased?

Now, I am alone with the history we created, because you left me in the middle of nowhere. Alone with the memories of our past.

Yes, I could rewrite history and tell our story in a different light with a different twist. I could reduce you, just as you reduced me before, into a cockroach loving a proud lion. I could even mock your name, taint your legacy, I could do those and much more. Because I know the history of our love like I know the back of my hand. Because I can still remember and feel the sting of your every word, hurting me even if you are gone, even if you are miles away from me. Because you never bothered to stop and read the history that we both created.

But I can not do that simply because I respect our history; the past is only good for remembering, nothing more. It is not a dwelling place where we live for the rest of our lives neither it is a terminal where we can go back when we feel we want to. No, our history is just a picture of our past, a snapshot caught in film, framed and hanged in a place where everyone can see. Easy to remember, easier to forget.

I could not make myself defile your memory because somewhere within my decrepit heart, because in some place within my beating heart you exist. To deny your existence would be an insult and a mockery to our past. I can not deny that you were once the center of my universe. I love you, God knows how much I love you even if you are gone forever. I love you, but all I can remember now was the feeling and the journey we took. I can't remember your countenance anymore. Your face is now blurred by the words I diligently wrote for the past few years, your body erased hastily by my eraser as I try to catch every word you speak, every action you make.  To me, you are now words that fills my memories, printed on papers, bounded and stored in some unknown library gathering dust. Now, you are the history that I chose to forget, because forgetting is easier than remembering.

While listening to Tracy Chapman's songs, I could not help but remember you.

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Syet, nagsesenti na naman ako. Syet, napapasenti ako ng hindi oras, ng wala sa lugar. Kasalanan kasi ni Tracy Chapman ito eh, eto ang epekto ng mga kanta niya sa akin - napipilitan akong alalahanin ang mga bagay-bagay na nagpapaalala sa iyo. Magkasunod ba naman ang "Baby Can I Hold You Tonight" at "Fast Car." Sinong mokong ang di mapapasenti niyan? Kasunod pa ang "Waiting in Vain" ni Annie Lennox. Syet, total tearjerker ang aking playlist, pang heartbroken, pang loser talaga. Sa ganyang klaseng playlist siguro bato lang ang hindi masesenti. O baka manhid, o baka kagaya niya na di marunong makiramdam, di marunong magmahal. 

Teka, bawal ang senti, bawal ang senti sa panahon ng finals, bawal magsenti sa hell week. Nawawala kasi ang aking concentration, nahihinto ang aking momentum. Mahirap na, baka mapaiyak ako ng tuluyan dahil babagsak ako sa aking mga exams dahil di ako nag-aaral, dahil ang inaatupag ko lang ay ang pag-iisip ng mga "what-if's" at "what-could-have-been-if-I-said-this-or-that." 

Kaya ngayong linggo, pipilitin kong kalimutan ka muna ng panandalian, kahit ilang araw lang. Alam kong mahirap dahil ikaw lang naman ang laman ng aking isipan eh. Pero kakayanin ko na lang ito lalo na kung ang katapat nito ay ang magalit si mama sa akin at tuluyan na akong ipa-ampon sa bombay na mahilig sa five-six. Kakayanin ko kahit mahirap siyang gawin, kahit dumanak ang dugo kakayanin ko, kahit pa tumulo ang mga luha at laway at luga at nana at kung anu-ano pa. Don't worry di mo na makakagat ang iyong dila ngayong linggo, di mo na magiging problema yan. 

Di ako si Superman pero kakayanin kong kalimutan ka ngayong linggo para naman matahimik ang naiipit na puso. At para naman pumasa ako sa exams. Parang awa mo na, please?

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Kung nagtataka kayo kung ano ang aking playlist ngayon, heto:

1.  Tracy Chapman - Baby Can I Hold You Tonight
2.  Tracy Chapman - Fast Car
3.  Annie Lennox - Waiting in Vain
4.  Billie Myers(?) - Kiss the Rain
5.  CandleBox - Far Behind
6.  Hootie and the Blowfish - Let Her Cry
7.  Tattoed on my Mind
8.  Mandy Moore - Cry
9.  Cake - Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps
10. Paula Cole - I Don't Wanna Wait
11. Counting Crows - Mr. Jones

Beware when the great God lets loose a thinker on this planet. Then all things are at risk. 
                                                                                      -- Ralph Waldo Emerson--

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ang ganda niya no?

Di mo na ako kinikibo. Di mo na ako pinapansin. Parang iniiwasan mo ako na parang may leprosy ako o may SARS. Di mo na ako binabati kapag nagkikita tayo sa tambayan, di tulad ng dati. Di mo na rin ako linalapitan at kinakausap.

At kapag nag-attempt naman akong kausapin ka, ika'y lumalayo, dumidistansya. O kung mag-usap man tayo dahil napilitan ka lang, palaging mabilis lang at lagi mong tinatapos agad. Isang tanong, isang sagot. Yun lagi ang ating drama sa tambayan. Buti na lang at di nila nahahalata.

Bakit humantong sa ganito ang lahat? Di na tayo tulad ng dati, di na tayo nag-uusap, nagkukulitan, naglalaro ng baraha, nagtatawanan, nag-eexchange ng mga sekreto, nagchichismisan, at higit sa lahat nagpapansinan. Bakit? Ano ang nangyari? Kasalanan ko ba? O ikaw itong lumalayo at umiiwas.

Syempre di ako si Madam Auring na manghuhula sa iyong drama ngayon. Kasi di ako marunong manghula kung ano ang iyong nararamdaman ngayon. Kasi di ko alam kung bakit ganyan ang kinikilos mo ngayon. Kung bakit you are giving me a cold treatment. Ano ba ito, isang cold war? Walang pansinan. Walang imikan, as in wala lahat.

Lagi kong iniisip kung ano na naman ang aking pagkakamali. Akala ko okey na tayo, akala ko kinalimutan na natin ang lahat, binaon na natin sa limot ang nakaraan. Sabi nga nila, maraming namamatay sa maling akala. Sige na, nagkamali ako ng akala. Di mo pa rin pala nakalimutan ang lahat. At dahil doon namatay ako, gumuho ang aking mundo dahil sa aking mga maling akala.

Hanggang kelan kaya itong charade natin? Kelan kaya ang season ender ng palabas natin? Hanggang kelan kaya itong cold war natin? Patigasan ba ito, patagalan, hinihintay kung sino ang unang bibigay? Hihintayin na lang ba natin ang panahon na matutunan na nating mabuhay na wala ang isa sa ating sistema? Alam ko na kaya mong mabuhay na kahit wala kang kasama kasi noon mo pang tanggap na ganyan ka, na bato ka, na manhid ka. Personally, di ko kaya. Pero kakayanin ko na lang kasi malamang kelangan ko na rin mag-move on, kailangan ko na rin maghanap ng iba, kailangan ko na rin matuto na mabuhay na wala ka sa aking tabi.

Sana noon pa, natuto na akong di umasa sa iyo. Sana, di ako umasa sa iyo ng todo. Pero salamat sa iyo, (at dahil sa aking sobrang pagiging dependent) devastated ako ngayon, sa kangkungan pinupulot.

Kanina, di mo pa rin ako kinibo. Hudyat na ba ito na tapos na ang ating pagiging magkaibigan? Na patuloy pa rin ang ating cold war? Sana kaya ko ito. Sana kaya ko na mabuhay na wala ka na sa aking tabi. Sana.

*note: pinublish ko na ito dati dito, re-issue lang siya.. kung gusto niyo, magbasa basa pa ng ibang kasentihan.. hanapin niyo na lang.. hehehe

While scouring for cheap books in Recto, I found Jessica Hagedorn’s Dogeaters at the bottom of a heap of coverless books, torn magazines and mutilated comics. I hurriedly took it and paid 30 pesos because I thought I found a gem among a pile of trash. After reading the reviews found at the back cover, I knew I made a great bargain. I considered myself so lucky that day because I am about to read a book adored by American critics for just thirty pesos. But I was wrong, so dead wrong; I found a trash among a pile of wastes.

The book, set in the chaotic period of the Marcos era, portrays a society where American pop culture and local Filipino tradition mix shamelessly, gaudily and “transcends social strata, gender, culture, and politics.” A beauty pageant, a film festival and an assassination are the highlights of the novel where a crazily unrelated group of characters are entangled in one shoddy portrait of the Philippine society.

Dogeaters was hailed by the American critics as “the best novel available about the vibrant, bewildering Philippines.” The New York Times Book Review said in its review that the book is “a fast, frequently hair-raising first novel, full of images and fantasies reflecting the author’s Philippine background that maps the ruin at the heart of Philippine society in the last four decades.” The book also got favorable reviews from Entertainment Weekly, Kirkus Review and others. Not bad for a debut novel; getting those approving appraisals sure cemented her reputation as a Fil-Am writer writing about her beloved Philippines.

But after reading a chapter or two, I noticed that there is something terribly wrong. I began to question whether am I reading a book about the Philippines or what because I began to notice that the book is devoid of soul, a Filipino soul. It seems soul-less, walang kabuhay-buhay, walang kalatuy-latoy. I could not connect with the characters; I could not even empathize with them because they are not Filipino enough to me. Her novel is filled with characters who have no Filipino character traits (aside from eating dilis, hearing intently any radio dramas in the night and being passionate and very subscribing to beauty pageants); filled with characters who are sex-craved, sex-deprived maniacs, who seem to curse every second of their life; filled with flat characters who seem so out of place, out of tune, and simply outrageous. They seem distant, misplaced and lost in the setting. It even gave me an impression that though her characters wear ternos and barang tagalogs yet they have a heart, body, soul and mind of an American. Even the voice and tone of the novel is characteristically American and certainly not Filipino. It dawned upon me that the novel is very un-Filipino; a product of a writer who is detached from her roots, a contemptible product of American pop culture. A novel trying too hard to pass as a unique Filipino gem; as if written by someone who has never been to the Philippines or someone who relies only on tales, outdated books, chismis, travelogues, magazines, kwentong barbero, and even hearsays about the Philippines.

I do not know whether the aim of the book is to package the Philippines as an exotic, former US colony wanting for attention, as a country were perversity and conservatism mix like bananas and pineapples, as a place where pop culture thrives and flourishes, as a country where east meet west, to introduce the Philippines to the rest of the world - famous for those senseless EDSA revolutions, those kidnappings, famous for adobo, dilis, dogeating, NPA and Jollibee. Or it is intended to critique the Filipino society for its constant and continuing degradation, the ruin of the Filipino conscience, the breakdown of morality, the triumph of profanity. If the book was intended to prostitute the Philippines to the world then she made a good attempt of it. But if it was intended to critique the psychosis and neurosis of the Filipino society then she fell short miserably.

Her futile attempt failed on two counts. First and foremost, Dogeaters is not a social critique; it did not do justice to the things happening during the Marcos era. It provided minimal accounts of the horror and terror during those wretched years. Her depiction of the ills of the Philippine society was certainly done in bad taste and certainly not humorous. She gave no insights to the abomination that was occurring that time; she made me wonder what in the world was she thinking when she wrote the book. Even her point of view is skewed, twisted, inappropriate and detached from reality. Rather, the novel is a product of commercialization with capitalistic overtones; it was just written to make money. No, it is not a social critique, it is just a story peddled to make money. It is just one of those countless novels where the writer, charged up with greed and thirsty for recognition, writes to make a killing out of it at the expense of her countrymen. This is betrayal and treachery in the highest degree.

Secondly, the book has fake nostalgia written all over it. Generally, Fil-Am writers have this [fake] nostalgia about their [lost] Filipino heritage [sic]. They write shamelessly about their homeland, their cherished memories when they were still kids playing patintero in the streets, their titas and titos who used to give them aguinaldos every Christmas, their longing to come back home but could not because they are better off working in America than trying to survive here in the Philippines, about this and that and everything in between. They reminisce this, reminisce that and reminisce everything about the Philippines; they even confess that they are getting homesick by the second. Arrghh, don’t you just love their hypocrisy? Their Janus complex? I admit though that they are good writers (especially Hagedorn who writes with sound “narrative drive and lyrical sensibility”): they have their own unique style, they have the right techniques. But it’s their fake nostalgia that irritates me. These Fil-Am writers are trying too hard to be Filipinos in their works but fail miserably. They audaciously claim to be experts of the Philippines in the USA. In their quest to create a niche for themselves in the literary scene, they created none. Probably, they are just lost in the translation.

But the novel has its own merits too that should never be denied. The mere fact that it was lauded by such respectable reviewers is a feat itself. Only a few Filipino writers get their nods and very flattering remarks. The book’s only saving grace is that it was able to penetrate the deeply-saturated American market. If only Jessica Hagedorn could write sensibly, could be true to her Filipino roots, could provide fresh insights and write with a better perspective and point-of-view, then maybe she would earn her rightful place in Philippine literary scene. But until that time come, I will reserve my meager allowance for F. Sionil Jose’s books.

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first published in peyups.com
Wednesday, March 03, 2004 @ 02:29:28 AM

Pinanganak akong mag-isa, mamamatay akong nag-iisa.

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Nakakapagod mag pull-out sa sale pero masaya naman, enjoy. Marami ka palang nahahalungkat na kung anu-ano- mga naiwan na hangers, payong at t-shirts. Totoo pala ang saying na there is gold in trash. 

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Siep, I can read between the lines.  But the message is not meant for me or anyone else. I know you will not understand me, but maybe someday when things become clearer, you will see and realize the truth.

Habang hinihintay ang lahat, bigla akong binatukan ng realidad: naghihintay pala ako sa wala.

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Matagal tagal na din akong hindi nagfri-friendster. At wala na ring masyadong nag-aadd sa akin, kaya tinatamad na akong i-update ang aking friendster page. At malamang medyo nalalaos na ang pausong ito, kung baga, ang friendster ay isang fad lamang. Pumatok lang naman ang friendster dahil sa notion na pwede mong mahanap ang mga long lost friends mo na nasa ibang lugar na o nasa abroad o saang sulok man ng mundo. Pumatok din ito dahil pwede mo silang bigyan ng testimonial para ikaw rin ay mabigyan testimonial. O di kaya para lang magpacute sa mga nagcucute-kyutan diyan. O yung iba, ginagamit ang friendster para maka-pick-up o di kaya'y para maghanap ng bf/gf (kasi desperado na sila).

Pero, para sa akin, ang gamit lang ng friendster ay para mahanap mo yung mga taong gusto mong mahanap, yung mga crush mo noon, yung mga kagalit mo noon; gusto mo lang silang kamustahin, kung ano na ang ginagawa nila, kung saan na sila nakatira, kung may asawa na ba sila o wala. Kung masaya ba sila sa buhay nila, contented na ba sila sa mga trabaho nila. yun lang naman ang friendster sa akin. Oh, nakalimutan ko pala, nakikiuso lang pala ako sa friendster, kasi naman lahat ng orgmates ko sa UP CIEM ay nagfrie-friendster, kay magfrie-friendster na rin ako. Wala naman masama kung makikiuso ako, ayaw ko rin naman na mapag-wanan ako ng uso, at least "in" ako kapag mayfriendster ako... hehehehe

Unless I would be free from your shackles, my heart would just be a barren and desolate desert/wasteland: crying for rain, pleading for mercy, gasping for freedom.

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yehey, napanood ko na ang chobits sa wakas. Haha, may karapatan na akong gamitin bilang wallpaper sila chii and the rest of the gang. Ngayon, kilala ko na sila chii at sumumo (at alam ko na kung bakit gustong gusto ni reg ito). Kaya naman pala gusto ni reg ito eh, kasi may touch of drama, comedy and a pinch of green. Yung episode na napanood ko ay yung pinapabili ng lalaki si chii ng underwear. Well, one comment: riot sa katatawanan. Napakakulit. Pero nakakalungkot kasi di ko natapos ang episode kasi ginagawa namin yung video presentation para sa STS eh. Project muna bago chobits.

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May sinend si Ray sa yahoogroups namin na nakakatawa. Parang patama siya sa mga babae. Personally, I am against to any form of gender discrimination. So sana, wag kayong magalit sa akin kung ma-oofend man kayo. But the funny thing is many of my friends say that the data sheet is actually true (but does not apply to all women). Lalo na yung mga nakalista sa ilalim ng "physical properties" at chemical properties. But I don't agree sa uses niya. Ano? Pang-trophy lang ang inyong gf/asawa/kabit/anak/ina/lola? Nosiree, that is bullsh*t, plain bullsh*t. Kung sino man ang gumawa nito, nakakahon ang kanyang pag-iisip sa mga maling stereotypes na kumakalat sa kaisipan ng mga tao. It is sickening and nauseating that we just regard women as just mere ornaments, just like we flaunt our best orchids to our neighbors, or our sportscar to wow our kumpadres. Oh well, we live in a very sick world. Come to think of it, our next president is a high school drop-out and full of macho-shit and posturings (this would be the case unless GMA would do something miraculous or ask for divine intervention). God save the Philippines.