Blogssssss….

Ten in the morning in Jose Bastida Elementary School at a day like May 14, 2007 was nothing like any other day for an election coverage volunteer.  I probed the whole school in hopes of seeing election frauds in action–vote buyers lurking the entrances of the school or a man in possession of a carbon paper, better yet, a marked ballot being dragged through the pavement by the relentless wind, or simply a civilian presumably a party member inconspicuously distributing signed ballots. But it has been two hours already and the only progress I have so far was getting my skin tanned by the terrible heat of the summer, which by the way is not part of my plans. Five more minutes and I may already be a candidate for skin cancer.

The number of voters weren’t as many as expected but there is no doubt a busy atmosphere surrounded the area. Voters were preoccupied in finding their names on the computerized voters’ list posted outside the precincts. Many have been present as early as seven in the morning yet three hours have passed and they have not yet filled the names of their candidates on their ballots. It is not surprising if they didn’t want to be bothered by a person with a handful of questions regarding the election. Thus, “Mamaya nalang…” and “ayoko…siya nalang oh” (later.., sorry…, talk to the other person…) were the most common remarks I got from the busy and tired electors.

I left the pool of voters thinking that maybe the BEIs (Board of Election Inspectors) can give me a better answer. So I headed to the nearest precinct and asked if I may interview the chairman of BEI regarding the flow of the election. But even before I can introduce myself and my affiliation, the BEI seeing my name tag already had her mind set on driving me out of the room. “We are not allowed to give interviews.” she said. And without a choice, I simply raised my eyebrow—a simple notion of being doubtful over such stupid rule.

Sweaty, weary, I was little by little losing hope of getting any interviews at all. I was sitting on a stool intended for watchers when a distressed woman trying to find her name on the list approached me, and said “I’ve been here for about two hours already and I couldn’t find my name on every precinct!” What luck! I thought this was the perfect opportunity to start an interrogation. She introduced herself as Arlene Ducano, 28 years old and victim of limited opportunities in the country, in other words ‘unemployed’. At first she talked about her difficulty of locating her name and her disappointment over the watchers who were not assisting her. “They are snotty and unkind. It was supposed to be their job to assist us voters…”

Since she was so open about her emotions and opinions, I asked her in subtle way if she was able to witness any kind of election fraud in the vicinity. She leaned towards me and said in a silent whisper, “Don’t tell anyone.” Right then and there, I knew this was the story I’ve been waiting for. I listened intently on every detail of a politician’s unfair play that she was divulging. “There is a group coming from this politician who went over to our subdivision’s covered court last night. His group dispersed food packs with money ranging from 50 pesos to 100 taped under the styrophore container,” said Ducano. She said that along with the food is a note stating the name of the politician who expects their support on the coming election.

I was really captured by her story that I stayed on to chat happily with her for more or less fifteen minutes. After I got the essential details, I thanked her and gave up a huge smile for my own victory over the election.

I looked at her as she wandered over the school and until there were people who covered her from my sight. I turned around and saw a group of bystanders staring at me. I was dumbfounded for a second or two after one guy broke the silence and told me, “Miss, that girl Arlene Ducano is my neighbor. And she has a mental problem.”

If One Day I’d Run Away, You’d Know Why…

What’s worse? Getting hit by a truck or getting stab at the heart? In minutes both will all be over. There’s even a good chance that you will never remember how it felt to be in one those situations or better yet you’ll no longer exist to actually remember it. So it’s none of the above. For me, worst is to have to see your whole being gradually dissolve in front of you. And all you wish you can do is to wear you cap, put on your sunglasses and run your way out of it…fast!

I imagine my present life as a water free flowing on a single steady path going nowhere but the drainage. And as my life travels from a single channel to another, I can feel the stillness of a whole world without care–a kind of peace characterized by such coldness that will never put you to rest.

One time, I woke up in the middle of the night with one short scream. It was loud, but kind of laid back, a result of a quick realization that it was all just a dream and there’s no way that dreams will ever invade reality. Well, I dreamt that the person I hate the most (my cousin) is going to live here in Davao and torment me as long as I’m here. I took a deep breath and calm my self by reassuring that dreams are opposite of what happens in reality. Eventually, I was sleeping like a baby once again.

But tomorrow was the big surprise. Tomorrow, after school I was eager to ask my mother about my cousin and if she has plans of moving here. And my mother thinking twice whether she’d reveal her family’s little secret, asked me an if-question. And we all know what situational questions are for, it is to let you know in an indirect manner that the condition presented is actually the past, the present or the near future of someone you know so well (either the speaker or the listener). And in this case, it was my life and thanks to my prophetic dream I realized how tragic it will be.

As a teaser, let me first introduce to you my cousin Ickick, that ingrate who once in my life, I considered a best friend cousin. In the past, she double-crossed me and ruined my relationship with my sister, (the relationship) which on that time was already in the ICU. She falsified stories that made most of my relatives hate my guts and wish I was not sharing their bloodline. Thanks to her, the criticisms I receive per month doubled in a miraculous high-speed. And my image was distorted to the point wherein it was no longer recognizable. And she had to accomplish it all during the time that I’m nowhere near to defend myself. What a creep!

There was actually a conspiracy behind the sudden unfortunate turn of events that currently unfold in my life. A plan concocted by none other than my uncle and his ever faithful cohort, my mother. And like my cousin, they accomplished their plan the moment I am alone and defenseless. My father, who was my only sympathizer, went on a business trip to Visayas. And since the day the ingrate invaded my humble abode, I was not able to contact him. His cellphone, one of the most useless things in the world, was as usual, out reach and outside coverage area.

I can see only one probable reason for pursuing a plan which everyone knew would incite negative emotions from me, who unmistakably was not given the chance to settle the score. Well, my mother said that she never really understood my side (I’m quite doubtful!). For her, all negative but very human emotions are vague stuff. This I don’t find reasonable unless she’s a hell hound in disguise. Let me explain. See a self-proclaimed goody-two-shoe who can understand why some guy like my uncle would prefer a type of women who would leave him for some guy who has money over and over again and despite lessons from experiences. Not only that, she’d prefer reasoning out for this same guy who would prefer her daughter working as an entertainer in Japan because of the money the poor child is expected to earn. And besides all that, she openly confesses that her biggest difficulty is to comprehend the situation of a person who got angry with someone who destroyed his/her reputation. What on earth would you call that????

Figuratively she’s that villain in batman that has his face equally divided into two parts which in appearance are poles apart…one is a monster’s face while the other can be judged as normal. And having her around for 19 years makes me consider the possibility of running away. And make me wish for an early graduation and even disappearing into thin air.

Well the reason applies for my uncle, who is in cahoots with my mother. He’s simple minded, money oriented, spoiled, certified pompous and ever dependent youngest child in their family. He’s the arthritis in everyone’s back please welcome my Tito Edgar! And the crowd says boo in unison.

He went to our house with his son three years ago, telling everyone that he’s a desperate guy but when given the opportunity to work as a jeepney driver, he declined. When someone suggested about applying for a blue collar job, he again declined. And in one of those days when all he did was to sit around in his room and watched at his room’s very own television, in our house, a bulb accidentally lighted and right then and there Idigar (var. for Edgar) had an idea. Iddie (var. for Idigar) thought that the fastest way to succeed and earn lot’sa money is to work at none other than…nope! Not a company…wrong again, it’s not a big business… it’s at Panacan Galleria (the home of chickens who fight for their lives). Well, his actual work there is to give a one additional claw to the chicken that currently and ever since, has five per paw. This additional claw, he said, is as sharp as a knife and the only way to start a living in this kind of profession is to borrow five thousand from grandlola (his mommy dearest). Which grandlola permitted, the next week to follow Idigar became a mantatari (a guy who provides the additional claw for the chicken).

Of course as anyone who has a right mind would predict, Idigar didn’t get rich. On the contrary, he was pushed to stop the mantatari business and was again dipped into bankruptcy. Idigar is not the kind of guy who strives on his own and learns to stand from every fall; he is that special kinda guy who has two fairy god mothers by the name of Liza and Stella, who are always there to create the perfect opportunity.

So on one morning, Iddie’s lotto ticket (the winning numbers as well as the ticket were provided by the fairy god mothers) hit the jackpot, and from being a loser he emerged as the owner/manager of a very spacious karinderia at the side of the school where my ex is currently enrolled. Wow! Luck turns for iddie, but luck runs out for his dear son. He shoved his son back to his mother’s womb and got himself a booby girlfriend. The stroke of luck is fast and so as the growth of his insatiable appetite for more. He hired four extra people to do a three men’s job (including his own). And he constantly complained why he isn’t earning as much the old owner had. He blamed it all on one of his four workers, accusing the person of stealing money from him. He dreads cost-cutting so he brought another person to help him, my cousin–the ever plastic being who allegedly, stole something from the tindahan next to their house in Novaliches. And despite my disapproval, they continued with their plan underground. My mother even told me that if this devilish brother of hers pursued the plan, she will cut all our ties with him. And guess what? Two days ago I woke up hearing my uncle’s voice downstairs. And then my mother denied ever saying the phrase “cutting the ties with him”.

Think about living with all those people, and constantly resisting their compelling influence in your life. Think about having to deal with their dysfunctions everyday and having to raise them if not accept that some just never grow up! And the worst is above all, is seeing their hands on the control system of your life. Don’t you wish you can just wear your cap and put on your sunglasses and run your way out of it…fast? Cause in minutes, it’s not going to be over. In fact it has just begun. And there’s no way you’d ever forget it happened. One way or the other it will become a part of you, of the distorted figure that has or will become you.

***consider this fiction…

May 07, 1987. At Children’s Hospital, Novaliches, Quezon City. A baby girl was born. The third child of a simple couple, which at that time was a resident of 129 West Ave. The child was me.

A year after I was born, my parents decided to move to Bliss, Pag-asa, Quezon City. And with not much freedom and capability to decide for myself, I tagged along with them. At one year old I was a baby living at the top floor of one of the many four story buildings that comprise BLP Condominium.

I was around three years old when I first had a taste of a foreign land. In one of our grandest years, we had spent our vacation at Hongkong. Don’t ask me about it now; without pictures, I don’t know how else to remember it.

At four, I started studying. I was enrolled at a small educational institution called Child Stimulation Center. It was small, but it hired teachers who graduated from different UP campuses.

As early as four, I already realized my astoundingly fast ability to memorize. I realized that when I was to recite a poem entitled “Kalamazoo the (stupid) Kangaroo!” However also at the same age, I figured out a huge upset to my brand new talent. I found out that I have a relatively short-term memory. Almost 75% of what I’ve amazingly memorized in more or less 5 minutes will stay stuck in my mind (without review) within in a maximum length of two straight days (Maximum…as in it rarely happens). Beyond that, pretend I’ve unknowingly caught amnesia.

My first medals I got when I graduated from both nursery and kinder. I was the most outstanding student, then the first honor. It never really mattered to me, but I know how much it meant for my dear parents. And it created a bit of a pressure in the subsequent years.

During my six years in elementary, I became a theatre group member, a dance artist, a girl with a dream of becoming a future housewife, an indoor girl, a computer geek, a daydreamer, a ‘feeling’ librarian, a couch potato, a diehard anime fan, a visual artist, a frustrated writer, a TRUANT, a constant fixture at quiz bees, drawing contests and essay writing flicks, OD’s best friend and also school journalist. After six years of elementary challenges in three different schools, I emerged first honorable mention on March 2000 graduation day.

The dark ages of my life were both on the later part of my elementary and beginning of my college years. I kept one of them as a secret so to not awake the ghosts of my past. (Shucks!)

Although, the height of our economic stability was during elementary, I consider highschool as the happiest stage of my life, especially during the later part. I learned to let go of my problems regarding other people’s heaping expectations, especially the one that comes from my parents. For once, I was living the life of an average student. I was not a part of the cream section and the school paper. I freed myself of extracurricular responsibilities. But since Ateneo was requiring students to have at least one club, I was forced to join AECS. A school based organization that was very unproductive. It was supposed to be an environment-concerned org. but it turned out to be the wisest choice for students who wanted to spend their club period eating kwek-kwek and drinking sodas at the school canteen.
There were also a lot of things about me that amazed me during elementary and high school. Like I’ve mentioned earlier, I was a truant…well I am still a truant. And probably it already courses through my veins and arteries. And during those days when the maximum number of absences (before one is considered a drop-out) was 40, I was practicing absenteeism for more or less a month straight. By the time I got back to school, it was already the end of the first quarter. What shock most people including me, is after three months of exerting effort (of an average student who is always present), I will emerge as the top 1 of the class. ‘^_^

I wasn’t really the kind of person who gives out her best in what she does especially after the dark ages of my life. Before I admit, I am quite diligent. I was always researching ahead the topics of my subjects. I am used to reporting and I was very vocal in class. The truth is that the only reason why I’m pushing myself so hard to reach the top is to be able to impress those people who constantly expect me to surprise them with more and more accomplishments. I was afraid that I might let them down…afraid that I might not be able to be the person they expect me to be. T_T (I just don’t know why I like pleasing people, even if the saying that goes as ‘you can’t please everyone’ have long become a cliché’.)

So until now, even in college, I never yet experienced not being able to sleep or have acne cover my entire face. Well I do have eyebugs though, but mind you, I have eyebugs ever since I was born. I don’t think it will go away with a couple of sliced cucumbers.

I was an inconsistent honor student during highschool. But during graduation, I never got the same limelight as during elementary. But it’s ok! On those four years I was a computer geek, a team captain of the our volleyball team who got hit by a volleyball on the face, a careless student, a common fixture at the school’s canteen, an essay contest third placer, a student teacher, a frustrated visual artist, an angel to some people’s eyes while a devil to some others, a student taunted with name-callings such as nerd, and sineskwela, a two time president of the class, a social drinker, a candidate for prom queen, an absentee, a person to earn 2 suspensions or six jugs for not bringing her book, exploding a magic pop, being late, talking while the teacher is talking, and changing seats with some classmate, a girl who got married (on a marriage booth) twice to different persons on the same day, and the only one labeled as a “role model” student by a teacher to get a grade of C on conduct. (How ironic!)

At 17, my mind wasn’t that clear about what specific road to choose after highschool. Although, I took UPCAT and passed, I was not sure of what course am I going to take or if I really want to continue with UP Mindanao. Within my three years in ADDU, I learned to love the Ignatian principles and of course the environment which cradles my blue blooded (as in Atenean) friends and at the time, which includes my past boyfriend.

And because of this confusion, my life went to another rocky road. That rocky road continued even until I went back to UP to continue with my initial course which was Communication Arts. My first year in UP Mindanao was a bit indescribable, in a sense that I have mixed emotions about the place, the people, studies and my life as an irregular student. I was actually losing interest in studying. And when my love life turned rocky as well, it went worst for me though not immediately. Last, last semester’s TCG (true copy of grades) I got a GWA (general weighted average) of 2.88 and beside it was a small cursive handwriting that says ‘warning’. I earned 4, inc. (incomplete), and drop all at the same semester. (Refer to my TCG 2nd Sem 05-06.) It was only during last semester that I had my inspiration back and for the first time in two years, I really felt like studying and going back on track. That was right after I recovered from my frustration over my broken childhood dream of marrying my first and last sweetheart. (Yuck! Mushy Stuff…)

Now I don’t know whether I am now back on the track, or I still feel like hibernating this semester. But one thing is for sure I am very much excited for our upcoming practicum in both the print and radio industries this January. I hope there’ll be a lot exciting moments to come and my life will be sweeter than it is now.

P.S. I don’t need a love life to prove that life can be sweet… But I don’t deny the fact that life is sweeter when you have someone else to share it with. ^^

Anyway to end this blog, I will have to say once again and for all that this is my life and basically it revolves around academics, loved ones and of course me. It may not be that interesting for you, and you may not at all find it special, but for me this is earth, my heaven and my hell. And everything I’ve known now and all the things that I have become, I owe it all to the bittersweet experiences of my past and my present. Still, no one knows about the future, but I am always hoping that it will be better than that of the yesterday.

Para kay Doyle at Daday… sorry at hindi ko sinulat yung “Marichu’s pimple gone wild!” hindi tuloy nalagay yung “green hot lava” na phrase dito. ^^ ehehe!

Marichu’s Canteen: The New Lord of the Flies

There is not much UP Mindanao could offer its visitors especially if they’re looking for that X-factor they usually find in places like Boracay, Pearl Farm, Eden Garden Resort, and etc. But if they’re looking for something totally different or pretty much unusual from those they usually find photoshopped in brochures and leaflets of numerous travel agencies, then UP Mindanao might just be the place to visit.

Besides the gleaming bronze statue of a 4’11 nude guy who loves to extend his hands and show the world that is it only a mere leaf that hinders them from getting a glimpse of his small package, two buildings that solely symbolize that it is in fact a school and the randomly arranged trees and wild flowers that sprouts just about anywhere, it is also the home of the not-so-affordable yet popular restaurant that we call “Marichu’s Canteen” for obvious reason that it was named after the owner.

This canteen is not hard to locate. Just three or four few blocks away from the left of the covered catwalk going to the main building where the cemented nude guy stands still, and voila! You will see a medium sized barong-barong that had slightly succeeded in extending itself by setting additional column of tables and chairs on its supposed-to-be orchard. Wow! Truly Accessible!

Not only does the food in Marichu’s canteen a bit expensive compared to their few competitors, they also have delicacies whose presentation and aroma proved to be inviting not only to human beings but also to flies of all forms and sizes. In fact, it was the flies that always come first to reserve their tables and chairs, and most of the time which I mean always, it is us humans that simply shove them away.

But come to Marichu’s Canteen on an hour like 3pm and you’ll discover that there is more to it than the common perception of a first time visitor. It is surely a site to visit or rather a sight to see.

On one three o’ clock in the afternoon, I and two of my classmates made a trip to Marichu’s Canteen. Unlike its usual busy appearance during noon, at that time there were only a few people around and plenty of flies feeding on the leftovers that remained on tables. There were only a few food selections left; and the main merienda, which was the pale yellow palabok, was also on display. Its gaining popularity as a 3pm meal was quite evident on the yellow colored plates left by the few customers. As we sat there lazily waiting lazily and waiting for nothing, we saw one girl wearing black and white hoody shirt in one table with a lesbian couple, a plump girl wearing a sleeveless top and boyish girl wearing loose shirt and jeans. As we try to stretch our ears, we catch their conversation over the hottest topics in the vicinity: Marichu’s afternoon specialties, the Palabok and flies. Oops… I mean fries.

The girl beside the lesbians was very quiet, while the couple carelessly took advantage on the verity that no one was around to watch them express their fondness over the other. The three of us gladly preyed on a potential subject matter, gossiping about everything we saw and heard. But nonetheless we’ve enjoyed how their tête-à-tête jumped from one dish to another food concerning topic and how their constant display of affection was too mushy for television to air.

We’ve also laughed as the chubby girl comically pulled her original punch lines such as “Busog nako ba?! Maraba nako ani!” (I’m full! I’m going to get fat!) and also the most unforgettable part where the boyish girl put her nose right where it doesn’t belong, which made the fat girl react with “humutan ka sa akong ilok???” (You like the smell of my armpit?)

But our enjoyment was cut short when the three decided to leave the place at exactly 3:21pm. Oh Well! We’ll probably miss the laughter that the couple along with the silent girl has unknowingly shared to eavesdroppers like us. It was a scene funnier than one of the sketches of the trying-hard-to-be funny sitcom entitled Bora. A scene that only took place in a medium sized barong-barong we call Marichu’s Canteen at a certain time such as 3pm. Just like the flies who feast on the leftovers of tables that were left untidy, so are we who are happily preying on the innocent couple’s romantic moment.