Gaps, patches and in-betweens

The TV is showing the latest press conference of the president. It is Sunday. I sit in the living room and think that I am having a deja vu.  Years ago I was small with the then-president hogging all the airtime on an otherwise lazy Sunday morning. I didn’t understand then. I was too small and too busy going about my 4/5-year-old business.  Today I feel my heart growing heavier with each curse thrown at everyone who dares criticize the process to achieve his end. No one has ever done anything, not any one of his critics. It is so negative, heavy and wrong and it is shaking me to the core.  So much so that I am ready to snap at anyone, even those who can never be a party to my inner turmoil. This is what we have had for six years. Soon we will be cursing and stabbing each other. We will put on our sense-of-entitlement-to-what-we-think-is-morally-right hats and be vigilantes regardless of how hurtful, or the lives it would take to be right and just. Because t...

Litter of a life of disregard Clutter the streets we call home Children barely in school and adults Spit everywhere, Hurl curses as an expression Of awe, of aghast, of blame At every little ****ing thing. We claw at those who are silent Throw stones at the victim Punish the weak Ridicule misfortunes Mutilate the broken Wish people bad because they do not think like us. Hurting is the new norm. Hitting without thought of our actions, Of each other. Once We were proud but we cared. We smiled and meant it. The jokes were not at anyone’s expense. Talent was used to heal, to bring together. Loyalty and love were not for sale. Did the downturns of life armor us With rudeness and disrespect Anger to mask fear A pretense for strength? How did I get here absorbing all these? I have no armor.   The wounds from the lashes bleed. My blood is drained. I am scared and hurt. I want to believe, Before I close my eyes That I will be...

(an ongoing thing) When you sit with your eldest child until the wee hours of after midnight and talk, talk and talk. (2015, Halloween break) When your eldest child keeps thanking you for whatever reason, some of which are within the context of: Having heard family stories of other kids. After admitting that moving so much when she was younger made her an introvert and just when she has gained enough confidence and established new friendships, it was time to move again. Then at 18, out of nowhere, she thanks me for the experience and the  chance to live in Thailand. For raising her the way I have – whatever that means. For the music influence in her life. When while watching TV, you relate to the character getting drunk and say:  "I wanna get drunk enough!" And your youngest says "You can. You’re home." Knowing that you’ve chosen the right friends because your kids miss them.  "I am an X in an indeterminate equation. And that X is...

Or things I do not need in my life right now or any other time for that matter series 1. Stale cigarettes 2. 3 in 1 coffee 3. "tinarantadong itlog" - messed up egg, especially for breakfast. "I am an X in an indeterminate equation. And that X is the rock upon which I stand." - Mario Puzo

I know you don't like the letters that I write to you. But I don't always give you a letter on your birthday, so bear with me. Dear Ilaw, They say that 18 is the age when you become an adult. That is bull****. It is just the start of having a say on who you think will be good for our country, who you think will pave better roads to give you and your friends the environment to pursue what you want to do, with enough opportunities to do so. Thinking for yourself, making your own decisions, sticking by them and knowing when to let go do not happen "from hereon." You have always been at it even when you were yay small. I never told you to study hard. Well, maybe Tatay did. What is important when one is in school is you enjoy the learning process that it offers. And you actually learn something. And yet, you did study. You took your sweet time, in between book chapters of "Series of unfortunate events", but you did. You and your sister were not those...

Dear seatmate at the bank,  How difficult could it be to just sit without shaking your leg? You are causing my earthquake trauma to recur. In case you haven't noticed, the seats are connected. The small ripples you cause in your shifting are like layers of earth reshuffling. Do you really have to beat to the music of the commercials on the monitor showing the number being served at the counter? I understand that you are getting impatient. Let's see, I got here some 30 minutes before you. If I can sit still like a meditating plant, why can you not stop moving!? Do you have someplace else to go? Well, I do too. Away from you! And this goes out also to seatmates at airport boarding gates, hospital waiting halls, and any other facility where we share the same bench. Dear passenger behind seat number 17D on PAL flight 9:20am from Tacloban, Leyte, and the person behind me on the bus from Silang to Manila, and the bus ride back home on December 17, I do not appreciate ...

We survive or remain victims. They talk to me, because of me, for me. They take away my voice. So I lie and wait for the paradise They said would come When things have changed. It was too long in coming. I learned to talk their way. And we screamed Sometime long ago, Or maybe just yesterday Against the --isms that choked us Against how we were held captive And molded the way we are now. Yet it is the eloquence in the foreign language That allows us to move comfortably in the world. It is the faith that we cling to desperately To save us from the pain when we fall Even after all they have done, And the high cost of believing All that they have made us do And give up, that carries us through. The sanctuary of culture Does not keep the vultures at bay. They sweep our feet with sweet words As the promises of traitorous lovers, Yet we bed with them, a knife under the pillows And kiss them goodnight. Maybe we should’ve adap...