one chapter down

Nothing elaborate. No new me. No kilometric year-ender essay writing contribution. Just a photo of me to remind myself, perhaps a year later or so, that there was a moment in this life that I have a genuine reason to smile. Let’s just say 2019 is hard, and a majority of the 2010-2019 decade harder, but thanks to everyone who endured with me both delightful and agonizing experiences, these affairs eventually accumulated to that reason. Hope to see you all again in 2020 with much better reasons to smile.

31

My heartfelt gratitude goes to everyone who remembered and greeted me on my birthday yesterday.

People say you become wiser with age. Although wishful thinking dictates it has a smidgen of truth, I just think you become equal parts jaded, dumbfounded, and generally exhausted, especially with all the happenings in this world.

But the fortunate thing here is that (if you are fortunate enough) you find people around you who are as jaded, dumbfounded, and exhausted as you are. Kidding aside, what I want to say is that you have to have a support system, and I am thankful I have my family with me and very few friends who I can genuinely call friends throughout these years. And pinpointing them out is hard, TBH.

Many fear the coming of 31, that it’s like jumping over a cliff with unknown heights, or finally crossing the three decades prior with inadequate life skills and experiences to prepare you for the next decades or so. I guess some of these are true, some not. There will always be questions that will continue to nag you. Have you done enough?

Have you corrected and made peace with the errors you’ve made in life? Are the choices you make benefit you and you alone? And after everything you have achieved, are you truly happy?

These are valid questions, concerns. Ultimately, to me, what matters is that you know deep within your compass that you know where you are supposed to be, what you are supposed to do, whatever your age is. To hell with where the rest are going and are doing.

To borrow and paraphrase a few words from our queen mother RuPaul, shantay wherever you want to sashay.

birth month

The Two-Headed Calf
Laura Gilpin


Tomorrow when the farm boys find this
freak of nature, they will wrap his body
in newspaper and carry him to the museum.

But tonight he is alive and in the north
field with his mother. It is a perfect
summer evening: the moon rising over
the orchard, the wind in the grass. And
as he stares into the sky, there are
twice as many stars as usual.


*

I am drawn to this poem by Laura Gilpin again and again in the past few days and I still couldn’t prevent myself from being pierced by what it is trying to convey. This is one of the few poems that has the same effect on me as “Allowables” by Nikki Giovanni and “The Diameter of the Bomb” by Yehuda Amichai did when I first read them. It just leaves me like a massive wreck, my nose stuffy and my eyes puffy.


*

Perhaps the reason why I gravitate to this poem lately is that there is this one revelation last year, in 2018, that keep recurring to me in the present. It is the shock of finding out, as I was cleaning my contact list on Facebook, that a person—a person who is once close to me—now has a profile that is labeled “Legacy Contact.” The term meant a person has passed away.

The information came to me in 2018. The actual person left three years prior. The thought bothered me the past few days because, on the year of the person’s departure, I received a message from this person and I chose to ignore it. It was a one-worded message: “Fred.” It was like a call, it sounded like a concern, or an opening to a confession that needed attention, but I kept silent for reasons that were deemed appropriate during that time.

Today I wonder what would have been our conversations like if I had responded to the message. I will never know.


*

I didn’t give it much thought until recently, when I had been to several birthday gatherings of friends and family in just two weeks, that I realized this month, March, is my birth month. Yes, I am turning a year older in a couple of days. How fleeting time is, right? How short-lived the days could get when you fill them with distractions in an effort to finally say you accomplish something right in your life.

So this begs the question: Is this all there is to it?

Will there be another time in this repetitive existence when we (both) look up into our respective skies and see there are twice as many stars, as usual, and feel everything is all right? Still all right? One could only hope so.

what spirit?

I am sorry but I am tired of seeing posts like this that put a (deceptively) positive spin on the suffering of many Filipinos because of our leaders’ inefficiencies. What Filipino Spirit? What resiliency? This is insulting. Nobody deserves to experience this, in the first place. Situations like this are not to be celebrated—they need to be solved.

If this is what they call “Filipino Spirit,” then I want to see the same thing, the same situation, for our barangay captains, councilors, mayors, governors, congressmen, senators, and even the president himself. These guys are culpable, through and through.

These days, proclamations of “resiliency” and “Filipino Spirit” have just become an excuse to shrug off and/or accept incompetency and the broken promises of our leaders. This only becomes problematic when the same leaders criticize anyone who seeks a better life by demanding more from them. Self-sufficiency should be enough, they would imply, as if we are forever immune to these calamities. Like a toxic lover who consistently takes advantage of you (and yet you keep welcoming that person into your life anyway), these leaders are the posterboys for abusive relationships on a national, political scale. 

An acquaintance argued to me that our leaders have nothing to do with these disasters, even going further by stating that “no country is prepared enough for Mother Nature, no matter how deep their drainage systems are.” 

Oh dear. Does this mean I have to put all the blame on Mother Nature for poor urban planning, undisciplined and ill-educated communities, inconsistent implementation of policies, substandard projects, absence of proper waste management, and government workers who do not do any work at all? Everything connects after all.

What this acquaintance of mine has forgotten or refuses to acknowledge is that the Philippines (and its leaders) is not equipped and just do not have the initiatives to handle situations like this, even if this country has been experiencing these situations regularly for decades now.

So yeah, I am tired of all this. If that guy in the photo is smiling, instead of praising it, I think we should all ask this question instead, louder than ever: “Why is this still happening?”


[ photo borrowed from this site ]

looks familiar

Two weeks ago, while I was at the bank one afternoon and was waiting in line to pay for this month's bill, a woman in her early 50s—who was two persons ahead of me in the queue—tried to catch my attention. I had my earphones on, listening to Pharrell Williams and Janelle Monáe being ecstatic about jalapeños, so I wasn't sure if it was actually me she was eyeing at.

But she kept craning her head towards me. It was starting to feel awkward. I removed my earphones, smiled, and acknowledged her presence. “Is your family name Torregosa?” she asked me directly, although in a tone that seemed already certain. “Oh no,” I replied. “Do I look like someone you know, ma’am?” She nodded, and she added that I have these features of a Torregosa. She told the same thing to the lady next to her, who I was very sure she just knew while waiting also in line, as if for reassurance.

I gave her a smile. I put back my earphones on, and scanned mental pictures of any Torregosa that I may have met or known in this lifetime. I couldn't recall a single Torregosa. I have nothing against the Torregosas in this world though. I do get this a lot, anywhere in this country—Metro Manila, Dumaguete, Tagbilaran, Cebu, etc.—being mistaken for someone else.

Before it was my turn at the counter to hand over my cash and payment slip, I fully realized two things: 1) I think it is not wrong to start believing now that I may have an extremely generic face, and 2) I am really bad at small talks.

Pharrell and Janelle continued singing they're hot.

season's greetings!

The most common consensus as everyone inches closer to January 1 is that each year is just a series of extreme ups and downs, and that we will eventually feel better as we hurdle onto another year. Or so we thought. Nothing has prepared anyone for the avalanche that is 2017.

2017 is a year that could easily be summed up as difficult. From wrath of nature and its consequences, local and world leaders who make highly questionable and sometimes laughable decisions to unending wars, existential traumas, and personal tragedies, this has been a year that challenges us the more we try to get away from its clutches.

Although no amount of celebration could remedy the devastation in all its hideous forms that many have endured, I guess we are all lucky enough that we manage (and perhaps conditioned) to insert a cheerful vibe every December. Being joyous on the twelfth month is not for everyone, but for those who do, cheers mate!

Let’s take for example Christmas Day on December 25. As we know, it is not only a chance to open gifts and swap stories with family and friends. And for us, this always rings a notch truer than ever, in each year, because the month of December alone ushers us to the birthday of our mother—the rarest living Wonder Woman I personally know.

That is why moments or instances such as this allow us a momentary respite, a reason to celebrate. Yes, it may not be easy these days to insist that we “cheer up”, but at least we could try. We always try. So from my family to yours, Happy Christmas and have a delightful and prosperous New Year!

And remember, before we turn to another page in our lives, give thanks to those that make you matter, make your days a little bit lighter, a little more colorful. Do not fail them. That is why I am sending out my gratitude to those who keep up with my countless attempts at trying. Sometimes, the finer things in life do not require money. In these distracting times, what we might really need, more than ever, is appreciation.

tagbilaran food guide 2017

Since last November, I’ve been seeing a lot of city food maps and hunger guides on social media—from Makati, Pasig, Taguig to Bacolod, Dumaguete, Cebu and much, much more. And then it hit me. It is unfortunate that I still have to encounter one for Tagbilaran City, Bohol. So, instead of waiting for it to pop-up on my news feed, I decided to create one myself.

I just think this is perfect for the holiday season, with friends and loved ones heading back to their hometown. Or tourists finally getting to have their dream vacation in the island.

This is by no means a ranking of food spots across the city. This is simply a list of options that my friends and I have come up with. Also, the places to eat are not limited to what I have provided here—there is more scattered all over Tagbilaran (and beyond the city itself). And like most memorable food experiences, the thrill comes in the discovery. More information below.  Some of the local establishments have their own Facebook pages, too. Check them out. Enjoy!

Note: This is subject to change, in case I have missed something. Click on the photo to enlarge.

RESTAURANTS

The Buzzz Cafe of Bohol and Bee Farm
▪ Galleria Luisa, Gallares Street
▪ Lite Port Center, Gallares Street
▪ Island City Mall, Rajah Sikatuna Ave.

Persona Mesa
▪ J.A. Clarin Street

Aïolí Cafè and Restaurant
▪ 717 Cesar Place, CPG North Ave.

Gerarda's Family Restaurant Bohol
▪ 30 J.S. Torralba Street
▪ CPG North Ave.

Prawn Farm
▪ Island City Mall, Rajah Sikatuna Ave.

Just Sizzlin'
▪ P. Del Rosario Street (beside Tamper)

Denrick's
▪ M. Torralba Street

10:31 by Chef M
▪ Miguel Parras Extension


FAST FOOD

Chowking
▪ Island City Mall, Rajah Sikatuna Ave.
▪ Alturas Mall, CPG Ave.

KFC
▪ Island City Mall, Rajah Sikatuna Ave.

Jollibee
▪ Island City Mall, Rajah Sikatuna Ave.
▪ Alturas Mall, CPG Ave.
▪ Plaza Marcela, Pamaong cor. Belderol Street

McDonald’s
▪ BQ Mall, CPG Ave.
▪ J.A. Clarin co. Calceta Street

Mang Inasal
▪ Island City Mall, Rajah Sikatuna Ave.
▪ Gallares Street (beside Borja hospital)
▪ Remolador Street (across old Holy Spirit School)
▪ Island City Mall, Rajah Sikatuna Ave. (soon)

HOLA Mexi-Asian Fusion Cafe
▪ Island City Mall, Rajah Sikatuna Ave.

Dunkin’ Donuts
▪ 15 J.S. Torralba Street (across Plaza Rizal)
▪ Island City Mall, Rajah Sikatuna Ave.
▪ Plaza Marcela, Pamaong cor. Belderol Street

J. Co Donuts
▪ Island City Mall, Rajah Sikatuna Ave.


PIZZA 

Alfonso Pizzeria
▪ Dauis Junction

Al Fresco Bay Cafe & Restobar
▪ G. Visarra Street

Biaños
▪ Vennore Building, J.A. Clarin Street

Alberto's Pizza
▪ Belderol Street

Pizza Hut
▪ BQ Mall, CPG Ave.

Shakey’s
▪ Tagbilaran City Square, CPG Ave.

Greenwich
▪ Island City Mall, Rajah Sikatuna Ave.
▪ Plaza Marcela, Pamaong cor. Belderol Street

More Bites Pizza
▪ Gallares Street


THEMED

Bohol Pearl Korean Restaruant
▪ Lite Port Center, Gallares Street

Rai Rai Ken
▪ Island City Mall, Rajah Sikatuna Ave.

Shang Palace Seafood Restaurant
▪ North Town Center, CPG North Ave.

Mooon Cafe
▪ Lite Port Center, Gallares Street

Hot Soupoon
▪ Mansasa Seaside, Venancio P. Inting Ave.

Asiatika
▪ MetroCentre Hotel, CPG Ave.

JJ’s Dimsum
▪ CPG Ave. (beside MetroCentre Hotel)

Garden Cafe
▪ J.S. Torralba Street (behind Cathedral)


CAFÉ/PASTRIES

Tamper Coffee & Brunch
▪ P. Del Rosario Street

Panda Tea Garden / The Library Cafe
▪ J.A. Clarin Street

Tablea de Maria Clara
▪ Ma. Clara Street (across University of Bohol)

Chill Pill Cafe
▪ CPG East Ave.

Hugot Cafe
▪ Tagbilaran East Road

Bo’s Coffee
▪ Island City Mall, Rajah Sikatuna Ave.
▪ 15 J.S. Torralba Street (across Plaza Rizal)

Tuko Cafe
▪ Gallares Street (beside Ramiro Hospital)

Brewpoint Coffee Club
▪ J.C. Borja Street


CAKES & MORE

Too Nice To Slice Cake Gallery
▪ Dauis Junction

Cake Garden
▪ Dauis Junction

Estrella Bakery
▪ 15 J.S. Torralba Street (across Plaza Rizal)

Goldilock’s
▪ Island City Mall, Rajah Sikatuna Ave.

Red Ribbon
▪ Island City Mall, Rajah Sikatuna Ave.
▪ Alturas Mall, CPG Ave.

Mosia Cafe
▪ Mansasa Seaside, Venancio P. Inting Ave.

Sweet Home Café
▪ 15 J.S. Torralba Street

Sun Cafe
▪ Sun Avenue, Gallares Street 


LITSONAN MANUKAN GRILL

Payag Restaurant
▪ BQ Mall, CPG Ave.
▪ CPG East Ave.
▪ Island City Mall, Rajah Sikatuna Ave. (soon) 

Chicken Ati-Atihan
▪ Ma. Clara Street
▪ Jacinto Borja Street

Gerry’s Grill
▪ BQ Mall, CPG Ave.

Chicken Deli
▪ Lite Port Center, Gallares Street

Abi's Seafoods & Grill
▪ CPG Ave.

JJ’s Seafood Village
▪ K of C Drive, Gallares Street

Acacia de BuBu
▪ V. P. Inting Ave. cor. E. Butalid Street


MORE RESTOS, SNACKS, ETC.

Wings St.
▪ Lite Port Center, Gallares Street

Socorro's Restaurant
▪ P. Del Rosario Street

D'boat Cuisine
▪ Galleria Luisa, Gallares Street
▪ Gallares Street cor. Jacinto Borja Street

Alexa
▪ BQ Mall, CPG Ave.

29th M Street Café
▪ Marapao Street (across Red Cross Bohol)

Munch Box Snack Bar
▪ Vennore Building, J.A. Clarin Street

Jojie's Pa-initang Bol-anon
▪ Tagbilaran City Square, CPG Ave.
▪ Island City Mall, Rajah Sikatuna Ave.

Kwek-Kwek og Tempura
▪ Tagbilaran City Sea Port

Siomaiyan
▪ Tagbilaran City Square

opinionated

So here we are again. I chanced upon a conversation that seemed pointless, all thanks to the tired excuse of saying “It’s just my opinion.” Although it is true that everyone is entitled to one’s opinion, let us be reminded that there are GOOD OPINIONS and there are BAD OPINIONS.

In short, not all opinions are created equal, and not all opinions carry the same weight of logic, relevance, and constructive intent. And before we forget, opinions are still informed by facts, shaped by study and discipline. These days, many opinions are just meant to spew hate and confusion. To make my point clear, let us take these examples:

“I like chocolate-flavored ice cream. It’s my favorite.” (good opinion)
“I like chocolate-flavored ice cream. It should be everyone’s favorite.” (bad opinion)
“She is gay and she doesn’t like to party. But it’s all right.” (good opinion)
“She is gay and she doesn’t like to party. She has no right to be gay.” (bad opinion)
“I think we need to water our plants regularly.” (neutral to good opinion)
“I think we need to kill all suspected criminals without due process regularly.” (bad to extremely bad opinion)

It's simple, right? It doesn't take a Master's degree from some university in Norway to understand the varying degrees of an opinion's nuances. Now you know.

the anniversary

I was about to post something on my blog, when I thought of checking out my archives. Lo and behold, I just discovered last August 26 was the 10th year anniversary of this personal blog. I mean, who would’ve thought that a simple challenge and hobby among college friends back in 2006—which became an online repository of early attempts at literature, rants and opinions, humor and melodrama, and all things sundry—will last this long? 10 years. Imagine that. In this little corner on the internet, I see how my writing has evolved, and it gives me goosebumps stumbling upon old entries. Yucks. Because of this realization, I began checking out the blogs of my college friends too. Unfortunately, all of them have tended other distractions and priorities, and most of their last posts have been published in the mid-2000s. I don’t know what to whip up for this milestone. Perhaps Top 10 of this and that? Maybe. For now, I will have to settle with sprucing it up a bit, give the banner picture a new look.

700 after 6 months or on the 2nd half of 2016

Today is July 1, the beginning of the second half of the year. And looking back to the first six months, I’m left wondering, have I actually done enough in the first half? Have I accomplished anything that I can be proud of? Was it all worth it?

The road to this day was not entirely smooth and easy. I believe it will never be. There will always be that patron who talks loudly than the movie in a theater, that person who cuts the line to the cashier, those people who spread lies and think they can get away with them, those socialites who mistreat their server in a restaurant, those past loves that come knocking on your door without notice, and many more. Basically, those people in your life and around you who make living hard and miserable.

Just yesterday, in the early maneuverings of this new chapter in my life, I already feel like I’ve just endured three grueling years in one go, even if it has only been the second week. But still, for my 700th post in this blog—which I have started way, way back in August 26, 2006 (that’s almost 10 years ago!)—I’d like to say, come on over, July! Bring it on! After a long while, at least I can genuinely say now that, yes, it is all worth it.

too manny to mention

Several days have already passed since we’ve first heard Manny Pacquaio’s now infamous opinion on same-sex marriage which is, by extension, an opinion on homosexuality. It’s easy to read that between the lines. The furor over his remarks is a little downplayed now on social media and local television. But the fire is still burning.

“Mas masahol pa sa hayop.” Worse than animals. This is what Manny Pacquaio said when asked about his stance on gays and same-sex marriage. Clearly, the man does not know anything about the animal kingdom. Look at the penguins, Manny. Check out the seahorses, too, Manny.

Pacquaio’s views on same-sex marriage and the LGBTQ community in general is not just an opinion. It is pure hate masked in religiosity, a faith blinded by scripture that is taken too literally. I mean, who in the right mind would think that anyone who does not match his principles is someone of lesser value? I have to say that Pacquaio just ruined the true meaning of Christianity.

There is a name for that. It’s bigot. Look it up in the dictionary. Also, check hypocrite.

As congressman who is consistently absent in the House of Representatives, has passed no bill or law, has worked so pretentiously on his image to become a Filipino hero, or basically has done nothing to improve our political conditions, now let us ask ourselves: What’s worse, a gay man’s union with another man or a man as stubborn, useless, and irresponsible as Pacquiao?

Of course, his supporters are quick to defend. They are even up in arms when Nike cuts its ties with Pacquaio, as if these guys can never accept the reality that everything one does has its corresponding consequence. Even if you are a has-been boxing champ. It’s actually as simple as Newton’s Third Law of Motion. For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. If you cannot take full responsibility of your actions, then it is high time that you grow up.

But, no, Manny’s defenders will never grow up. “It was just an opinion!” they would cry. “Everybody has the right to say their opinion!” Now, I’ll get this straight to the point. I am awfully tired of this excuse that I’d rather quote a statement from Filipino artist Gerry Alanguilan: “Hey, everyone’s got a stupid opinion. I’ve got one. You’ve got one. Politicians can have one. The problem with politicians is that their stupid opinions can become policy. And that I have a problem with.”

Big problem, indeed. And on his Instagram account, Pacquaio continues to post bible verses that suggest gay people should be put to death. Hay naku, Manny. For everyone’s sake, let’s get ourselves educated again with this book that every religious person and hypocrite alike loves to brandish in our faces.

The bible has enumerated some laws, and these laws are only supremely viable in the era these are written. One of these laws is a verse in the book of Leviticus that mentions a man sleeping with another man (that’s sex, to put it bluntly) being a grave sin. Yes, it is in the holy book. But this is the part wherein most people fail to understand and remember: historical context.

Human population before is not as overwhelming as we have right now. Overpopulation is clearly not their problem. That is why to ensure a family’s bloodline or a community’s heritage through the years, it is highly important for all to conceive and raise kids as much as they can. And since man cannot biologically conceive a child with another man, therefore, hitting the sack and banging the night away with the same sex is pointless.

Still with me? Now that’s the thing with historical context that most of our rabid religious friends will never acknowledge. Because if we do not apply the historical context of the bible, implementing every written law in it, then all of us are doomed and bound to hell. Because, you should know, the divine scripture also states that we must never eat anything with scales and fins that come from the sea, we should never wear gold, we cannot have tattoos or piercings, we cannot braid our hair, women should never speak in church, and many, many more.

And yet, once this historical context is pointed out, the bigots are quicker to change the topic. That is why in the wake of this sports icon’s blunder, it is troubling and painful to learn that more and more people are still peeking out of their caves to dismiss the concerns and welfare of the LGBTQ community because there are other “important” matters to think of. There are some family members and “friends” who proudly proclaim they can love the sinner but hate the sin. Dear, that is the most pointless and heartless way of showing your concern. Here, take this necklace with a bling that says “Former Friend of Fred.”

Worse are some people who resort to shaming and insults. There’s this person who is accusing me of being overly sensitive and over reacting about human rights, and suggesting that we better talk about China’s missiles instead. This is so difficult to fathom. Because when it comes to human rights, shouldn’t anyone’s universal and default reaction be sensitive? It’s human rights we’re talking here, not some paper clip! Without human rights, your mother can be raped, your little brother can work as a slave in a factory, your father can be kidnapped for sex trade, or your first-degree cousin can be put to death anytime by anyone. Of course, my sensitivity on matters such as my dignity and rights should be on hyper-drive. If there’s just a Baygon for hypocrites and empty-heads, I’d buy it in bulk. As in boxes. Isang spray ka lang. Pak!

You see, I’ve been insulted many times before and today. Some are bearable while some are just too violent to share even to your closest friends. “Hambog, weird, lami birahan” just to name a few. These have happened in the workplace, in school, even in places where such labeling unlikely strikes. What’s scary is that some people could lash out without understanding my side of things. If I respond to their words, they reveal their claws and lash out even more. It’s frustrating, it’s tiring. And if it’s my turn to respond with a measured act that counters the seriousness of their offense, they cry out and instantly take the role of a “victim.” I am too old for this vicious cycle of bullying, and I think I can handle anything that comes my way. But sometimes, it’s just too much. If one crosses the line, all I can do is just to remind anyone that, “Hey, that’s not right.” It always pains me to remind people of this.

Pacquaio’s remarks did create a divide in my life. And with all honesty, it is traumatic. Although it is hard, with the number of heartbreak increasing whenever I discover someone I know and respect has bigoted views about the LGBT community, I am still thankful that all of this happened. It is truly in the darkest, most painful episode in life that you will know who your real friends and comrades are. Through this ordeal, suddenly, I have been united with my truest allies. I am so jubilant to learn I have some people who’d always have my back.

Now here’s the thing: Each day is a struggle for anyone who is living on this earth, regardless of gender or orientation, age or class. That is why if we simply accept the core values of all forms of spirituality in all kinds of religion, we will learn (soon, hopefully) that respect, compassion, and love are all we ever need to make things a little bit better. Love, above everything else.

And as a reminder, let us learn from our mistakes, and start growing up from there.


[ illustration by Rob Cham ].

give thanks

It is common knowledge that a person has to be thankful every single day, as if each is a gift you now or will deserve. I usually don’t feel that kind of day. Maybe I’m just not the type of person. But today is one of those rare episodes in life that I can genuinely say I am thankful for how one moment to another assembled into a glorious, fascinating whole. It is not only a day that reminds you there’s a lot to be done, but it is also a day that tells you there’s a lot you can actually do. Such as, among many other things: to be more honest, to be kinder, to try harder. To my friends, to my family, to nature, and to whatever divine being that works the gears of the entire cosmos, my heart is filled with gratitude. Thank you.

material boy

It took me a while to process how highly specific references in time could actually etch a memory even on the toughest Teflon of indifference. There really is no forgetting. But there is acceptance and maybe a pinch of stubbornness among many other things. Like forgiveness. To those who deserve it.

As someone who officially falls under the late 20’s category today, taking on the mantle of an adult now is more pressing than ever. And I guess I am getting good at it. Lately there is not much late night excursions, or drinking just to get a good buzz and hitting on anything that moves, or even hanging out until dawn like some seventeen-year-old teenager. They all seem too blah and pointless.

So now I could only wish that I’d make better choices and simply embrace those that are not, spend my time on endeavors that truly matter, be a better judge of character to myself and not to other people, and understand what is good for me first in the context of what is good for others and not the other way around. This is not selfishness. It is self-preservation.

I have more birthday wishes in mind, and they are just a repeat of what I have posted here before. There are resolutions, too, that I am still dealing with this year. In order to break such repetition, I might as well list down the material things I’ve always wanted (and needed). Givers, you know where to find me and know where to send that package. Thank you in advance.

I was writing this to the music of Amy Winehouse and, yeah, one can say nothing really changed. But there will be. Have a great day, everyone.

• Monopoly Game of Thrones Edition
• Cards Against Humanity
• Ray-Ban Round Flash Lenses in Red Mirror
• Ray-Ban Clubmaster Gunmetal Aluminum
• HP ActionCam Monopod
• Panasonic Lumix DMC-LX100
• JBL Charge 2 Bluetooth Speaker
• Bose QuietComfort 20i Noise Cancelling Headphones
• Smart Evernote Notebook by Moleskine
• Kiehl’s Facial Fuel and Ultra Facial Moisturizer
• Comme Des Garcons Play Green for Men
• Estee Lauder Pleasures for Men
• Base London Aldaniti High-Shine Tan, US9”
• Dr. Martens 1560 Cherry Red, US9”
• Dr. Martens 939 in Aztec Rugged Crazy Horse, US9”
• Dr. Martens Austins Oxblood, US9”
• Seagate External Hard Drive 1TB
• Ikea Lamp and Bookshelf
• Macbook Pro with Retina Display, 13”
• “Interpreter of Maladies” and “The Namesake” by Jhumpa Lahiri
• “A History of the Philippines: From Indios Bravos to Filipinos” by Luis H. Francia
• “The Introvert’s Way: Living a Quiet Life in a Noisy World” by Sophia Dembling
• Multicolored Mason Jars
• Basically a whole new wardrobe because almost everything I have now is one size smaller than me

crying

Last January 14, the Philippines has once again experienced a shot of spiritual high in the form of Pope Francis’ visit just a few days after that frenzy in Quiapo, Manila.

Whether the very warm welcome is a sign of the people’s holiness reaching record-breaking status or simply a typical response of a celebrity-crazed nation (i.e. bringing back to office a plunderer and former action star, making a congressman out of a boxing sensation), the Pope’s short stay has made an impression.

What an impression, indeed. Ever since his inauguration, news all over the world proclaimed him as a great breath of fresh air, a very dynamic, progressive man of faith. Approachable, humble, and bearing a selfie-ready smile for Instagram, the latest Pope can easily bring one’s heart a-flutter.

But in what would be the most head-scratching statement I have heard in this time and age, the Pope said in one of his speeches during his stay in our country, “The Lord will never let you down. Let us move forward, always forward.”

Head-scratching because of this: How?

How can we ever move forward if the very institution the Pope resides in power—an institution millions of Catholics across the globe proudly hold high above anything else like a badge of honor—remains in a very un-progressive and staggeringly un-forwarding stand on the most pressing issues of the world: HIV and AIDS, unbiased opportunity for women to serve as priests, family planning and contraceptives, unsolved charges on pedophilia within the enclaves of their own churches, and anything that connects to the LGBT community like, you know, equality and human rights.

These are just a few of the realities he has been fence-sitting on if not avoiding altogether.

On June 2013, about an interviewer’s question regarding homosexuals going to church, he gave a statement that made international headlines, and probably the conception of him being the beacon of change: “Who am I to judge them if they’re seeking the Lord in good faith?” Of course, people ate it up, threw confetti, or opened a bottle of champagne. But here’s the catch: he actually didn’t say anything about supporting gay rights or accepting the community.

He has mastered the art of ambivalence. As a man who reads Borges, Dostoyevsky, and other great literary writers, he knows what to say. He knows his words.

Also, the Pope is backed up by a target-oriented, well-oiled PR machine. You know PR, right? It is the same machine that creates plans and maneuverings on how to market chocolates to children, whey protein to gym-goers, or a toolbox to stay-at-home dads.

As for Pope Francis, his chief PR is Greg Burke, a 53-year-old former correspondent of Fox News, a channel known to be racist, sexist and anything that insults the intelligence. There is no denying that Burke’s job as the Senior Communications Adviser to the Vatican’s Secretariat of State (yup, that’s his official job title) is a success. He made a media darling out of a pope.

That is why it is beyond me that people still fall for labels “progressive” and “a new hope” and so strongly attach them to a man in robes when clearly nothing concrete has ever changed.

Lastly, this is what’s been bothering me. Upon the Pope’s arrival, the story of children crying at the sight of him stepping out of the plane has been repeated many times over on television, radio, and the internet, putting every possible spiritual spin on it. But is it wrong to consider that these children, perhaps just a few percent of them, fall into fits of tears because, even in the presence of such a powerful and authoritative figure, the Pope cannot actually do anything to eradicate the ills of the world like the scheming and corrupt government officials who kissed the ring on his finger or generally the oppressive society they currently belong? Just asking.

I shared a few thoughts to a friend, and he told me, “Just leave him alone. He’s not doing anything to you.” Exactly, my friend. He has not done anything. It makes me want to cry.

ethics #003

Earlier today, an estimated 5 million Filipinos flocked to Quiapo, Manila to join the largest procession in the Philippines to celebrate the 408th anniversary of the Black Nazarene. In the process of this “tradition,” a man died. Also, there was a lot of screaming, cursing, pushing, shoving, and trampling on fellow human beings to get to a cross. Nothing can be more ironic than this spectacle.

On this side it looked like a tradition that had overstayed its welcome. Believe it or not, some traditions better cease to exist than being practiced. In Indonesia, it is a tradition for a particular tribe’s women to cut a segment of their fingers when their relative dies. In the Faroe Islands, an autonomous country within the Kingdom of Denmark, it is a tradition to slaughter hundreds of whales that could make an entire sea dark with blood.

Traditions can be subjective, especially if it has faith in its core. With our very own procession, as we witness the death, the injuries, and the wanton hurling of trash in the streets rise in numbers through the years, wouldn’t these go against the values of what is holy and divine? What happened to purity, discipline, and cleanliness?

Faith is a sensitive matter and a very tricky one, too.

There’s a father who insists on his wife and kids to go to church, but once inside he wouldn’t last 30 minutes through the service and leave. There’s a woman who preaches the teachings of the bible but remains bigoted and disapproving of what she deems not normal. There’s also a gay man who is partnered yet secretly frequents the cruising spots in town, pays for “service” with strangers, and by Sunday he would kneel down and pray, feeling all the promiscuity washed away with just the sign of the cross, saying he simply embraces who he is and all acts done are part of the process of accepting his true sexuality.

These are not made up. I know these people personally. It seems that faith can be bent at will, a switch that can be turned off when wanted. And it looks like some has an ambiguous idea of it—or have no idea at all. Featured in the news earlier, droves of people are in the middle of the procession like they’re ready for a rave party, expecting some sort of revelry.

Multi-awarded writer Nicolas Pichay shared to me on Facebook: “Our family are devotees of the Poong Nazareno. When I was younger, the procession was never anarchic. It had an internal order that valued solemnity and sacrifice. It is sad that the participants have forgotten this through the years.”

Truly, the essence of the procession has been relegated to the sidelines in favor of loud festivity, meticulous ceremonies, and head counts of attending celebrities. I am no saint, I have my errors. More so, I believe in the power of one’s faith. But at the end of the day, one has to ask: Does it have to be that way?

a matter of choice: the year 2014 in review

After New Year’s Eve, we always look back and survey the time that has passed, be thankful for having been through the last 365 days even if it is not an entirely smooth ride. Especially for us.

There was a doctor’s recommendation for the operation on my feet that would cost almost a hundred thousand for each foot, an introduction to cancer, a distancing of relationships that continued to stretch further as the days go by, a death in the family, a reappearance of people whose names alone make you sick to the stomach, an instance of flooding in the house that happened twice in a month, and much more that are still difficult to fathom.

It is a heavy way to start a year in review, yes, but this is to underline the sharp pinpricks of light in the darkness, the bits and pieces that remind us about the good: A decision to venture on a path I never knew I could do, a second chance in life during that trip to Sagada last February (I should be on that Florida bus that fell off a cliff and killed numerous lives, including local celebrity Tado, when I changed my mind at the last minute and took a van-for-hire instead), a recognition of a handful of people you can trust and hold on to, an epiphany on the need to burn bridges that go nowhere, a time to be healthy and fit (no alcohol in the last six months, hurrah), a return to the appreciation and creation of art and the occasional literature, a oneness of siblings despite the distances, a mother who makes this lifetime more beautiful and bearable, and a whole lot of blessings in different forms and interpretations.

Indeed, 2014 brought a sense of clarity like no other year has ever revealed: That every act has its place in the order of things, that one’s idea of right and wrong is as unique and different to another, and that one has to get up from where one has fallen with humility as immense as a prayer.

There’s always the distinction between what’s necessary and what’s not, and it is an imperative to recognize this at the soonest time possible. In short, all’s a matter of choice. People hurt you? It’s their choice. People are happy? It’s their choice. People love you? It’s their choice. And it is your choice to respond to their responses in a way that does not demean you but exalts you, makes you stronger and respected no matter how clichéd it goes. Remember, you are not born to harm or to be maltreated.

There are details though from both distant and not too distant past that jolt you up in an ordinary day, but one must keep calm. Especially when it comes to love and its intricacies. What I know from knowledge and wisdom is that it tends to bring remembrances, sinking the anchor that is nostalgia and rekindling what has been and what could be. That is why love can be painful; at times it drags along or clings to the past. If, and only if, that love has always and ever been true.

Though it takes dedicated will, one can break free from the shackles of this very subjective norm.

Last December, while cleaning up the mess in the basement caused by the first episode of flooding, I found a watercolor and ink illustration on board under heaps of paper and rubbish. Based on a note posted at the back, I apparently made it for a project in Physics under a Mrs. Pizzaras last September 26, 2004. That’s exactly a decade ago, when I was once an idealistic, overly optimistic and ambitious 16-year old.

Funny how such mementos could creep up on you at the most unexpected time, bringing you to how things have changed but not entirely so. I kept that high school Physics project, and from that moment I reminded myself once more it’s the good that ought to be remembered.

So this 2015, what I can wish for anyone is to be content even with the littlest of things, to be more honest, kinder, and happier not only for others but for one’s self, and ultimately to wake up each morning and say, “This day’s going to be good.”

To family, friends, and loved ones who stayed, remained modest and truthful, thank you for sharing with us your time and comfort in that trying chapter of our lives. Let’s wake up to new beginnings each day. The sky is never the limit.

read when you can

Just a few days ago, a terrible realization dawned on me while rearranging my bookshelf: Most people, if not all, will never know the likes of Carver, Marquez, Rushdie or Munro. What they only constitute as reading is giggling to cheap thrills of Wattpad. Or worse, the cocktail menu of a bar near you. Wattpad though is a trend, a mobile app wherein one can create stories and share them within a community. If only notable and esteemed writers from across and beyond the nation could contribute works of substance to this app, then we can really safely say that technology has never been a bane but a boon when it comes to reading.

What also pains me to hear from many these days are these common arguments: 1) books are boring, 2) there is no time to read, and 3) there is nothing interesting to read.

The first argument is the most common, and it usually comes from those who refuse to learn despite the awareness of the benefit. We can always tell them to read, yes, but if push comes to shove, we might just have to accept their reality and heed J.K. Rowling’s words, author of the Harry Potter series: “Books are like mirrors: if a fool looks in, you cannot expect a genius to look out.” Harsh, yes, but it speaks volumes of truth.

 The second argument, on the other hand, only emphasizes the elephant in the room that we all have the luxury of time in the world. What we just usually claim to have are excuses. This is where the problem lies. If only we could just take a fraction of our lives to read a newspaper, magazine, or a book of fiction or poetry, in the same manner we ogle at boxers, beauty pageants, fashion shows, and hours of DOTA, I have a feeling our nation would be a much better place to live in.

Lastly, the third argument is empty and lazy, almost like a cousin of the first. The Philippines has a wealth of written works, especially literature. As an archipelagic country, this wealth presents a diversity only a few can boast of. One can easily say ours is an embarrassment of riches.

There is more to Philippine literature than our folktales, Noli Me Tangere, Precious Hearts Romance, and Mabuti Pa Ang Roma May Bagong Papa. We have tales of familiar realities by Alfred Yuson and Jose Dalisay, domestic heartbreak by Ian Rosales Casocot, contemporary fantasy and the otherworldly by Dean Alfar and Eliza Victoria, exquisite verses by Eric Gamalinda, Joel Toledo, and Marjorie Evasco, an acclaimed Boholana critic and poet. On the graphic literature side, there is the piercing wit and humor by Manix Abrera, the inventiveness of Budjete Tan and Kajo Baldisimo, and the timeless satires of Gerry Alanguilan.

Truly there is so much more the Filipinos can offer. There is always something for someone, no matter the genre.

I think many people avoid the library because of solitude. To be alone with only a book as a companion, to be left out by peers and distractions. As if missing the next music playing in the dance floor or an update from an erratic Facebook newsfeed would kill us. But solitude is no disadvantage. Rather it allows us to look deeper into ourselves, away from the unnecessary we usually deem as necessary.

This brings me to one major selling point of a library and the books it houses. What we get from reading is not only erudition and sophistication but also the nuances of the human condition: an understanding of honesty, respect, sacrifice, trust, empathy, and above many other things, love. Love for each other, love for one’s country, or a love for books.

I will end this here, else I would digress further into the stars. There is nothing more to say but this: Take time to visit a library. Give yourself the gift of (re)discovery, a chance to get lost in a maze of books, to be a child once again and give in to the delights of curiosity. As proven since time immemorial, it is through wonderment that we know the possibilities of a future.


[ 2nd of 2 parts ]

there's nothing more to say but this

These days, to think of a library is almost always like to think of a very distant, analog past. It is like considering the biblical stone tablets over an iPad. But still what a timeless and relevant past it is! Though it is ironic we celebrate books in the digital age, last month’s National Book Week celebration gives me hope for humanity.

Why? Even with the increasing proliferation of technology, it suggests books and what they symbolize for still matter. If we are to believe that books are dead, we must not be having the celebration at all, we would not be having this discussion, and certainly, we would not be in a place where we are right now. Technology is auxiliary, a support factor, and not a hindrance to books and how we enjoy them.

Everyone must have heard of the maxim “knowledge is power.” It is no joke. It is real and proven by history. Knowledge could challenge a dictator (see Benigno Aquino), it could threaten a colonizer (see Jose Rizal), and it could defy false conventions (see Copernicus). This knowledge can be lifted from books, and books can be pulled out of a shelf in a library. Therefore, if knowledge is power, then power is available in multitudes inside the library.

It is easy to shrug this off as another academic speak, like it is some kind of propaganda to wrench people out of their smartphones and plant their heads between the pages of One Hundred Years of Solitude. But this is not the case.

When was the last time you searched for a book in a library not out of obligation but of leisure, out of a deep-seated desire and choice? It is a fact that we go to the mall instead of libraries. We go to the movies instead of libraries. We go to the beach instead of libraries. “A bucket of beer later? Nah. I’d rather go to the library.” I am sure no one’s heard anything of that sort from anybody.

I myself am a victim of these choices. In most weekends I would hang out with friends or binge-watch on Pushing Daisies and The X-Files (old school, yeah?) instead of occupying myself with a paperback. There is nothing wrong with these routines that we cannot shake off from our system, but there is nothing wrong too in allowing ourselves to crack that mysterious book in the nearest library.

It has long been prophesized that the advent of technology—particularly electronic books and reading devices—would replace the physical book, paper and all, thus rendering a genocide of bookshops and libraries around the world. But that did not happen. Although a couple of Barnes & Noble stores are closing in the U.S. and our very own Goodwill Bookstore is now completely erased from memory, we can still sigh with relief that the prophecy was a dud like the Y2K bug of the late 90’s. Even if we have all the gadgets to grab our attention, libraries and books are here to stay. Nothing beats the experience of being surrounded by books when you are hungry for trivial pursuit.

The library, in fact, houses the collective memory of thinkers, from one generation to the next. Getting into one is like being ushered into a hall of blinding light, and only when we get into focus that we would be welcomed by the masters of knowledge themselves. So if we ignore this in a corner like an old, abandoned building, we neglect a vast compendium of ideas. It is our responsibility to uphold these ideas, to sustain the progress these thinkers have made. We can only do this through reading.

That is why with the unparalleled accessibility of information today, it breaks my heart to hear people say “I don’t like to read” with so much entitlement, if not pride. I have a feeling an angel in heaven would drop dead whenever that statement is said.


[ 1st of 2 parts ]

the end

“The Hobbit: The Battle of the Five Armies” does not lend gravitas as much as the third installment of “Lord of the Rings” [2003], but director Peter Jackson’s extended version of the children’s book is decent and entertaining enough to please both readers and non-readers of J.R.R. Tolkien’s novels. Yes, the plot is stretched, but after the first two long-winded films, in here we finally get a brisk and focused tale of harmony over conflict, fortitude over fear, and honor over greed. Truth to one’s words still trump any accomplishment brought about by betrayal and lies. As learned by Thorin Oakenshield the long and hard way, victory and gold are worthless endeavors if one follows a self-centered path. Being the last part of a series of prequels to connect to the grander story that would end the ring to rule them all, “The Battle of the Five Armies” delivers. I’ve wanted more of Bennedict Cumberbatch’s Smaug though.

[ photo lifted from here ]