Black Apparition

Black Apparition

eldiablo

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mga bagay-bagay sa aking pagnilay-nilay	[Jul. 9th, 2009\|10:39 pm]
kita ko sa isang canteen dito sa may kamias: "now serving kambing." sabi ko, okay a. ilan kayang kambing ang kumakain dyan araw-araw? * lumayo kayo sa mga restaurant na nagsasabing "now ready to serve YOU." * mga kanta. alam nyo yung "and iiiiiii found a very SPISyal love in youuuu..." bisaya ba yung artist? * eto ngayong gabi ko lang din narealize: kakatakot yung kantang "turn arouuund... bright eeeyes..." ano yun, multo? dilat na dilat ang mata, kumikinang, parang may flashlight? tapos yung tono pa nung kanta e no? "turn arouuund..." * "sorry, wrong send." - ah. bakit, pag may binaril ka ba tapos mali pala yung tao, sasabihin mo, "sorry, wrong shoot."? pwede naman sabihing "missent". o "wrong number." ilocano ako, pero masisigurado ko na hindi galing sa tribu namin yung nagpasimula nyan. *** galing sa propesor namin sa trial and appellate practice (akalain mo?), mga labels at warning sa mga produkto (na karaniwan e mga abugado ang gumagawa, dahil sa mga kaso na inihahabla ng mga tangang kostumer): 1. sa kahon ng sleeping pill: "may cause drowsiness." 2. sa kahon ng blowdrier: "do not use while in the bath tub." 3. sa mga eroplano: "fasten seatbelt while sitting down." 4. sa kahon ng plantsa: "do not iron clothes while they are being worn." 5. sa kahon ng massager: "do not use while asleep or unconscious." ayos.
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asar	[Jul. 8th, 2009\|10:43 am]
maglalabas lang ako ng inis, galit, at isang walang-magawang buntong hininga sa pananalita ng mga tao ngayon. hindi ko maintindihan. at hindi ko maintindihan na ako pang hindi tagalog/ingles ang papansin sa mga ito. aywan ko. tinuruan naman kaming mga ilocano ng maayos na pananalita sa aming paaralan sa aming muntik purok sa ilocos. saan nag-aral ang mga ito??? *** "i can't bring my car. i'm coding." - aba, sandali at tatabi kami, baka bigla kang tumumba at mangisay. or, kung hindi pala medikal ibig mong sabihin, ano ba ang ibig sabihin ng pandiwang "to code", kung meron ngang pandiwang ganun? para ba yang "encode"? "to code"? ang pagmamakinilya o kompyuter na kulang ang daliri, siguro. "para safety." - karaniwan kong naririnig sa mga nagmamaneho nung pampasadang kotse (taxi). bakit, kung hindi ba ako magsi-sinturong pangkaligtasan e... danger? "i-friend mo ako ha?" - mas gusto kitang i-enemy. "fine-friend nya ako e hindi ko naman siya kilala." - fine-friend ka? pati siya ie-enemy ko! "sine-sell. nagse-sell." - ibinebenta, nagbebenta. "scinan." - ini-scan? "sina-scan pa lang." - (himutok...) "prinint." - mahirap nga ito. "monthsary namin ngayon!" - aw. sweet naman. date kayo? so ano gagawin nyo naman kapag yearsary nyo na? last week ba weeksary ninyo? konting kaalaman: ang anniversary ay galing sa salitang latin: "annum". ibig sabihin, taon, o year. kaya anniversary. kung gusto nyong gamitin yung month, ang salitang latin niyan e mens, mensis. ergo, "mensary" dapat. wag kayong mag-imbento. nakakainis talaga ito. isa ito sa mga all-time na nakakagigil. "monthsary namin ngayon!" AAAAAAARGH!!! puta, kinikilig pa... "polisiya." - tarantadong mga brodkaster na yan. akala nila ang galing-galing nila. akala nila ang huhusay nila kasi gumagamit sila ng jargon. mga tarantado! ano yan, tanggapan ng pulis? dyan ba dinadala mga kriminal? ALITUNTUNIN!!! "pinal na desisyon." - isa pa to. bakit hindi "huli." ang puno't dulo ng usapan. pinal? bakit? kasi final? kasi ganun ang baybay nya sa ingles? pinalitan mo lang ng "p" yung "f" e pwede nang tagalog? "ibi-nreyk nya ako." - ayan! kasi! monthsary-monthsary ka pa. ganyan ka kasi magsalita kaya "hiniwalayan" ka niya, hunghang! "ingat." - ... ano!!?? sino!!?? ano sa ingles yan, "care"? pag may aalis na pinsan kang merkano sasabihin mo ba sa kanya, "care!" ? "care, cousin!" ganun? "god bless." - YOUUU!!! YOUUU!!! TRANSITIVE VEEERB!!! putakti. ayoko na.
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just a spark	[Jun. 4th, 2009\|12:03 am]
character is not enough. it doesnt feed. it doesnt buy things. it does not make you worth anything apart from stories you tell that might entertain for a little while. but in the end, character does not respect get. you have to be worth more. if you do not get respect, you at least become an object of awe. or shame. and people do not dismiss you. people do not feel (or make you feel) that your mistakes, misgivings, misdeals, miscalculations -- and just about everything that makes you human, or some creature born different -- are not the end of the world, whereas when it is they who seek the forgiveness you readily give, it does not take anything more than an apology, recited with impunity if with a little remorse. people know how to comfort you. they find words. they find proper actions. but if all you have is character, you get overlooked. your needs. your welfare. your longings deemed no more than asinine predilections that they will say you never outgrew. your problems are unsolvable, they will say, although sometimes all that they require is an assurance that everything will be all right, that things are inherently temporary and thus finite, breakable, tend to vanish in time. assurance that you do not change, that your character remains unblemished in their eyes, and they continue to defend you without fail or qualification, they continue to offer taking bullets for you, be persecuted by others, dear to them, in your name and on your behalf. that is all. that is not much. then your character takes over. it immediately decides to set things to rights. whatever part of humanity it was that was made manifest: you lost a job, you had an accident, you broke the vase, you lost a memento -- becomes moot, because your character pushes you to rise above what once was, your character which does not accept the usual, which leaves things as they are. sometimes just one little spark of assurance does it: an encouraging pat on the back, an uplifting smile, a positive outlook. something other than what is called for. something real. something felt. something genuine. until then... well... arya...
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does anyone remember inday?	[May. 31st, 2009\|06:11 pm]
(from an old email) Dahil sa tindi ng kahirapan sa probinsya, namasukan si Inday bilang katulong sa Maynila. Habang ini-interview ng amo... Amo: Kelangan namin ng katulong para mag ayos ng bahay, magluto, maglaba, magplantsa, mamalengke, at magbantay ng mga bata. Kaya mo ba ang lahat ng ito? Inday: I believe that my trained skills and expertise in management with the use of standard tools, and my discipline and experience will contribute significantly to the value of the work that you want, my creativity, productivity and work-efficiency and the high quality of outcomes I can offer will boost the work progress. Amo: [nosebleed] Nakaraan ang dalawang araw, umuwi ang amo, nakitang me bukol si junior. Amo: Bakit me bukol si junior? Inday: Compromising safety with useless aesthetics, the not-so-well engineered architectural design of our kitchen lavatory affected the boy's cranium with a slight boil at the left temple near the auditory organ. Amo: [nosebleed ulit] Kinagabihan, habang naghahapunan. Amo: Bakit maalat ang ulam? Inday: The consistency was fine. But you see, it seems that the increased amount of sodium chloride (NaCl) affected the taste drastically and those actions are irreversible. I do apologize. Amo: [nosebleed na naman] Donya: Bakit tuwing paguwi ko, nadadatnan kitang nanunuod ng tv?! Inday: Because I don't want you to see me doing absolutely nothing. Donya: [hinimatay] Kinabukasan, sinamahan ni Inday si junior sa principal's office dahil di makapunta ang amo at donya. Principal: Sinuntok ni junior ang kanyang kaklase. Inday: It's absurd! It was never a fact that he will inflict a fight. I can only imagine how you handle schizophrenic kids on this educational institution. Revise your policies because they suck! Principal: [nag resign] Pag dating sa bahay, nandun na ang amo, galit na galit. Amo: Inday, bakit nagkalat ang basura sa likod ng bahay?! Inday: A change in the weather patterns might have occurred wrecking havoc to the surroundings. The way the debris are scattered indicates that the gust of wind was going northeast causing damage to the path it was heading for. Amo: [nosebleed ulit] Habang nagluluto si Inday ng hapunan, malikot si junior. Inday: Stop your raucous behavior. It is bound to result in property damages and if that happens there will be corresponding punishment to be inflicted upon you! Junior: [takbo sa CR, punasan ang nagdudugong ilong] Pagkatapos magluto, nanood na ng TV si Inday. Nabalitaan nya umalis si Angel Locsin sa GMA 7. Junior: Bakit kaya sya umalis? Inday: Sometimes, people choose to leave not because of selfish reasons but because they just know that things will get worse if they'll stay. Leaving can be a tough act, and it's harder when people can't understand you for doing so. Junior: [tuloy ang pagdugo ng ilong] Nung gabing yon, me nag text ke Inday. Si Dodong, ang driver ng kapitbahay, gusto maki pag text-mate. Inday: To forestall further hopes of acquaintance, my unfathomable statement to the denial of your request - Petition denied. Di nagla-on, dahil sa tyaga ni Dodong, nagging syota nya rin si Inday. Pero di tumagal ang kanilang relasyon, at nakipag-break si Inday ke Dodong. Inday: The statute restricts me to love you but you have the provocations. The way you smile is the proximate cause why I love you. We have some rules to think of. We have no vested rights to love each other because the upper household dismissed my petition!" Dodong: Perhaps you are mistaken, what you seem to contrive as any affections for you are somewhat half-hearted. I was merely attempting to expand my network of interests by involving you in my daily recreation. Heretofor, you can expect an end to any verbal articulation from myself" Me dumaan na mamang basurero, at narinig ang usapan ni Inday at Dodong. Basurero (sabi ke Inday): Be careful in letting go of the things you thought are just nothing because maybe someday you'll realize that the one you gave away is the very thing you've been wishing for to stay. Narinig ang lahat ng eto ng amo ni inday. Amo: [nagpakamatay]
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ode to arkdia

[May. 31st, 2009|12:01 pm]

i wrote the following poem after a night of beer at the bar of arkdia, where i used to hang out, alone or with friends, in my college and law school years. arkdia is no longer. the poem is posted on http://www.poetry.com/dotnet/P5930351/999/1/display.aspx

Offering

Arkdia
11:30 pm

It was the strobe lights.
When they began to blink madly
in the fashion of a furious heartbeat,
she emerged from the shadowed corner
of this sleepless sin house, wanting
perhaps to seek atonement
from the pounding rhythm
that has been beckoning, relentless
like the devil on an idle night.
Virginal, she walked like a royal
among commoners whose eyes wondered
what called her to a place like this
then bowed to the inevitable:
she must make amends.

Eldric Paul Aquino Peredo

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oooh louie louie!	[May. 17th, 2009\|01:14 pm]
si louei jon sanchez, ph.d. cand. naaaaaaks. http://www.facebook.com/ext/share.php?sid=108105622064&h=n4srJ&u=83VtA&ref=nf
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untitled number ___	[May. 15th, 2009\|01:50 am]
i am not sure if i have published this before. found it while i was trying to organize my stuff. (untitled) were i to trace where tears drag heavy blades to birth scars sacred -- echoes of solemn prayers unheard -- lightly, like whispers assuring (presumptuously) of morning, would i find there paths to a soul unmollified? i wonder (presumptuously) what would happen to the words: would they break before the utter power of a love unreturned, their breath-light innocence betrayed, or would they, with all meekness, raise a hand to pull out of love's eternal night? (the notebook where it is written says it is the second to the last attempt at poetry that i have written.) *** anyhoo. i can hardly wait to die. and it is only because i feel, after all i have seen and heard, that death is not the enemy. it is life. and his closest accomplice is love. - the capitan in mass for the death of an enemy (renato madrid)
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down with the herd...	[Apr. 25th, 2009\|12:40 am]
1. (while watching house, md) why do doctors yell "STAT!"? to be cool? because it's a medical term? hell no. it's an abbreviation of statim (or statum, i forget my latin grammar) which means "NOW!" so why dont they just say "NOW!"? it's shorter, with only three letters (even if "stat" is likewise considered only one syllable). wala lang. style nila. medicalese. 2. sabi ni binay sa campaign ad nya sa tv na maganda ang makati, etc. obviously sinasabi nya na nag-improve ang makati nung sya mayor. ganoon daw sila sa makati. e di doon na lang sya. stay on as consultant or something. pero sabagay, kailangan ng bansa ng disiplinador. pero ulit, sabi nga namin nung bata kami, sa ilocos, habang nagpapalipad ng saranggola at nagpapasikatan, "paramakits". 3. bakit kasi nilinis yung scene dun sa alleged suicide ni trinidad etong? 4. napakaliit ko ngayon, pakiramdam ko. napakawalang silbi, kumpara sa nakaraan. minsan iniisip ko kung bakit lumipas pa yun. sana wala na lang nangyari, nang hindi ko kinukumpara ang sarili ko nang ganito. alam kong may silbi ako pero wala akong laban sa mga ipinanganak sa pribilehyo. nakakahiya. 5. yung mga nakakakilala talaga sa akin, nagtataka siguro kung anong nangyayari. nabali yata yung mga pangil ko. 6. pero kahit may nangyari, sana hindi naman ganoon kalaki silang tao at pangyayari. ang hirap labanan ng tadhana, ng panahon, at ng katotohanan. parang kamatayan. tatanggapin mo na lang sila na ganoon kasi wala kang magagawa. 7. ang sarap pa rin ng buhay probinsya. biyaya talaga ang lumaki at mabuhay doon. 7. buti pa si pacquiao, bilyonaryo na siguro. kung may datung, may dating. tanungin nyo yung mga ipinanganak nga sa pribilehyo. ang bilis ng galaw at takbo ng mundo para sa kanila. 8. kung saan masaya ang tao, pagbigyan. darating din siguro ang akin. balang araw. 9. blaming anyone is inutile. the fault is always with the person who fails. he would do well not to hope or expect. he would do well to exert an effort to get up and improve. never mind the lack of recognition. sabi ko nga, kung tama ang ginagawa, darating din siguro yan. kung totoo ang diyos at lahat ng sinasabi tungkol sa kanya, hindi dapat siya natutulog. 10. all i have, all i am, has been drastically reduced. fuck it. down with the herd...
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e ganun e	[Apr. 15th, 2009\|10:47 pm]
1. kung may datung, may dating. kahit pangit, salbahe, walang modo, walang direksyon, manginginom, durugista, manggagahasa, etc. hahabulin pa yan. 2. dun pala sa up law, kapag may namatay, suspension. sa ust law naman, pag may nagalusan, expulsion. wala ako balita sa ateneo. 3. naluma na ang selpon. nagkokontakan mga tao sa facebook. 4. pati yahoo messenger. kasi may chat na rin ang facebook. 5. pero yung chat sa facebook pinuputol ang chat history. 6. wala akong pera ngayon. mga may utang dyan... 7. san ba dito ang bumibili ng mga plastic na drum na sira? yun bang pinunit/nilagare. madami ako e. pwede pa naman yun imelt at gawing plastic ulit di ba? 8. ano kaya sasabihin sa akin? 9. mangyayari ang mangyayari. 10. masanay na dapat ako. darating din ang akin.
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virtual suicide

[Apr. 15th, 2009|01:48 am]

A friend of mine used the nomination to refer to my abrupt decision to take down my personal online pages. Whether she used it to specifically mean the severance between myself and a standing network (at least online) built over the course of over half a decade, or metaphorically just the sudden death of my online presence, I don’t know.

Self-discipline, was my reason. Lame, in a way. Enjoy your virtual hara-kiri, she said.

Another friend was more overcome with alarm, so much so that with some alacrity she rang me up and asked, (perhaps) mockingly, “magpapakamatay ka na ba?”

Well, no.

It’s not the first time that I have made such a radical excision, to be sure. The reasons were somewhat the same. These online pages were an exercise in self-aggrandizement, an easy source of validation from the crowd, which, in our culture, cannot say anything critically constructive to your face. There is a genuine lot of friends, family, and admirers, this I must be careful to point out, and they must rest assured that this is not meant to slight them a bit. You know who you are, and have my eternal fealty. You, you ragtag bunch of fellow fools with whom I conquered early life and small responsibilities with, while others were busy with the hedonism now characteristic of the young and restless.

I need to focus. I need to streamline. So that in my endeavor to validate myself as a person and professional, nothing is suspect.

Ugh. Enough. I never had to give reasons when I condemned the herd before (remember "DOWN WITH THE HERD!"?).

But, because others might see in this simple gesture a foreboding of, or a probable return to the black-and-white-no-grays laws by which I used to abide, I will allow one compromise, and perhaps detractors might be merciful, too, to allow me this one breath: the web log will remain, not like a severely crippled devolution, but a wraith of the old online being that will manifest itself every now and then to take stabs at anything under the sun.

Tabi-tabi po.

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mga tanong na hap op yor layp	[Mar. 12th, 2009\|10:37 pm]
1. Kunyare nag-i love you ka na sa nililigawan mo tapos biglang may lumitaw na dragon sa harap mo, ano favorite mong pagkain? - adobong aso. ginisang linta ng dagat. 2. Pag lumindol ng malakas at katabi mo crush mo, anong gusto mong sabihin sa mga may ayaw kay Pacquiao? - naaalala nyo pa ang tunay na anyo ni jinkee? e ni sara balabagan? 3. Kunyare mananalo ka ng 1 million, anong gusto mong kulay ng rainbow? - southborder. 4. Binigyan ka ng kapangyarihan ng diwata, ano name ng first crush mo? - naiintindihan ko na ang tatay ko. ganito pala pinagdaanan ng gago. 5. Ipapamana sayo mga ari-arian nyo ng tatay mo. Kung papipiliin ka, punk o emo? - speaking of tatay, huh? sige. si prince. 6. Kunyare papatay ka ng tao, saan ka galing kagabi? - london bridge is falling down. 7. Kunyare nasa gubat ka na punong puno ng mga mapanganib na hayop, papayag ka ba mapunta si Angel Locsin kay Kuya Dick? - kesa naman kay Ate Pek. sayang si Angel. 8. Sa hirap ng buhay ngayon, anong favorite mong band? - contra. 9. Kunyare nakasalubong mo ex-love mo na may kasamang bago nyang boyfriend/girlfriend, anong gagawin mo para makatulong sa mga nasalanta ng bagyo? - gumuho ba bundok? 10. Nabuntis mo girlfriend ng bestfriend mo tapos tinanong ka nya, KFC o McDO? - sa goodah. 25/7 yun. lang kwenta ang 7-11, hanggang 24 lang ang araw. 11. Kunyare magugunaw na mundo bukas tapos nalaman mong gusto ka rin ng gusto mo, kaninong dentista ka magpapaayos ng ipin? - pwede namang online na yan. palitan mo lang numbers di ba? 12. Oo at hindi lang, anong pakiramdam mo ngayon? - medyo. 13. Sa gulo ng gobyerno natin ngayon, sa tingin mo may pag-asa pa bang mabago ang size ng pasas? - depende kung hubad na babae yung nagdilig. 14. Nastranded ka sa elevator wala kang mahingan ng tulong, anong gagawin mo para makaalis ng bahay bukas? - papaalisin ko bahay. same effect. 15. Naalala mo bigla ung EX mo, tingin mo naalala ka rin ng teacher mo nung grade 1? - andyan sya sa likod mo ngayon (buhay pa ba? di ba patay na?). 16. Hindi na kayo nagpapansinan ng dating mahal mo, tingin mo alam nya ang pakiramdam mo kapag may sun burn? - tina arena ito. 17. Dinampot ka ng pulis sa kasalanang hindi mo ginawa, anong gagawin mo para add ka nya sa friendster? - facebook na lang. 18. Nagkasabay outing ng tropa at pamilya mo? Ano uunahin mo isuot t-shirt o pantalon? - brip. 19. Nasira mo tiwala ng kaibigan mo, paano mo maibabalik ang dating sigla ng kalikasan? - asin? 20. Pag ang baboy sinabwan mo at chicken cubes nilagay mo, ano mangingibabaw, kasamaan o kabutihan? - kabutihan sana. para marami akong kabuti. sarap ng adobo nun.
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i suppose	[Feb. 12th, 2009\|01:51 am]
howling is a trait even tamed wolves cannot dismiss into memory. there are still moments when a wolf bares its teeth, no longer hastily and menacingly at prey or predator, but tiredly to the earth, before lifting its head and crying out to heaven from the bottom of its chest. what does the cry sound like now? majestic? forlorn? proud? questioning? the answers we will never know. the reasons, more so.
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no silver platter

[Jan. 3rd, 2009|11:51 pm]

[

Tags

couples, dating advice, marriage, relationships

]

(like i always say, YOU HAVE TO MAKE IT WORK! whoever thinks great relationships mean no hitches is mental. anyway, i got the following article from a yahoo page. dedicated to all fellow fools out there, mga meron, mga nangangarap magkaroon, mga igagapos na, at mga nakagapos na. sharing lang.)

You're smart. You know life is no storybook. But admit it: Somewhere deep in your subconscious lurk romantic visions of Cinderella, or maybe Julia Roberts. The images may be sketchy and a little outdated, but you can still make out the silhouette of the bride and Prince Charming riding off into the sunset.

In real life, sometimes your Disney fairy tale ends up feeling more like a Wes Craven horror flick -- and you're the chick who keeps falling down and screaming for her life. I've been there. Let's face it, marriage is not for the faint of heart. You want to believe your pure love for each other will pull you through. And it does. But it ain't always pretty.

That may sound grim. But here's a secret: Sometimes it's the least romantic parts of marriage that have the most to teach you about yourself, your partner, and the nature of love. Read on for some simple truths that will unlock the surprising treasures and pleasures in your imperfect, unstorybook, real-life love.

1. You will look at the person lying next to you and wonder, Is this it? Forever?

When you get married, you think that as long as you pick the right guy -- your soul mate -- you'll be happy together until death do you part. Then you wake up one day and realize that no matter how great he is, he doesn't make you happy every moment of every day. In fact, some days you might wonder why you were in such a hurry to get married in the first place. You think to yourself, "This is so not what I signed up for."

Actually, it is. You just didn't realize it the day you and your guy were cramming wedding cake into each other's faces, clinking champagne glasses, and dancing the Electric Slide. Back then you had no idea that "for better and for worse" doesn't kick in only when life hands you a tragedy. Your relationship mettle is, in fact, most tested on a daily basis, when the utter sameness of day-in/day-out togetherness can sometimes make you want to run for the hills. That's when the disappointment sneaks in, and maybe even a palpable sense of loneliness and grief. It's not him. It's just you, letting go of that sugarcoated fantasy of marriage that danced in your eyes the day you and your beloved posed in all those soft-focus wedding photos. You're learning that marriage isn't a destination; it's a journey filled with equal parts excitement and tedium.

Waking up from a good dream to face the harsh morning daylight may not seem like a reason to celebrate. But trust me, it is. Because once you let go of all the hokey stories of eternal bliss, you find that the reality of marriage is far richer and more rewarding than you ever could have guessed. Hard, yes. Frustrating, yes. But full of its own powerful, quiet enchantments just the same, and that's better than any fairy tale.

2. You'll work harder than you ever imagined.

Early on, when people say, "Marriage takes work," you assume "work" means being patient when he forgets to put down the toilet seat. In your naivete, you think that you will struggle to accommodate some annoying habit, like persistent knuckle cracking or flatulence.

If only it were that easy. Human beings, you may have noticed, are not simple creatures. Your man has mysterious, unplumbed depths -- and from where he sits, you're pretty complicated, too. You have to learn each other the same way that you once learned earth science or world geography. And getting married doesn't mean you're done -- it just means you've advanced to graduate-level studies. That's because every time you think you've mastered the material, he'll change a bit. And so will you. As two people grow and evolve, the real work of marriage is finding a way to relate to and nurture each other in the process.

"It's like losing weight," says Andrea Harden, 45, of Buffalo, NY. "You want it to be a one-time deal. You lost it, now just live. But then you learn it's a lifestyle. That's marriage. The effort is a forever thing." So don't be too hard on yourself -- or him -- on those days when you feel like you're struggling through remedial math.

3. You will sometimes go to bed mad (and maybe even wake up madder).

Whoever decided to tell newlyweds "Never go to bed angry" doesn't know what it's like inside a bedroom where tears and accusations fly as one spouse talks the other into a woozy stupor until night meets the dawn. If this scenario sounds familiar, I've got three words for you: Sleep on it.

You need to calm down. You need to gain perspective. You need to just give it a rest. I've found that an argument of any quality, like a fine wine, needs to breathe. A break in the action will help you figure out whether you're angry, hurt, or both, and then pinpoint the exact source. Maybe the fight that seemed to erupt over the overflowing garbage can is really about feeling underappreciated. Could be you're both stressed out at work and just needed to unload on someone. Taking a break will help you see that, and let go. Or maybe you really do have a legitimate disagreement to work out. Without a time-out, sometimes a perfectly good argument can turn into an endless round of silly back-and-forth, rehashing old and irrelevant transgressions as you get more and more wound up.

Even when you do manage to stay focused and on topic, there are some fights that stubbornly refuse to die by bedtime. And if you stifle your real feelings just to meet some arbitrary deadline, your marriage will surely be the worse for it. "This was a huge lesson for me," says Andrea. "As women we've been trained to make nice. But the whole kiss-and-make-up thing just to keep the peace was eating me up inside. I'd let things build up inside me until I just exploded. Now I wait a while to get hold of myself -- let the emotions settle a bit -- and state my position. Even if that means reopening the fight the next day."

4. Getting your way is usually not as important as finding a way to work together.

I can be a bit of a know-it-all. There, I said it. It's really not my intention to be hurtful or brash with people I love. It's just that a lifetime of experience has taught me that in most areas, at most times, I am right about most things. What shocked me several years into my marriage, though, was the realization that the more "right" I was, the more discontented my husband and I were as a couple. See, oddly enough, throughout his life Genoveso has been under the misguided impression that he's right most of the time (go figure!). So we'd lock horns -- often.

That is, until I learned a few things.

Namely, that when it comes to certain disagreements, there is no right or wrong -- there is simply your way of looking at things and your husband's. "I used to be very black-and-white earlier in our marriage," says Lindy Vincent, 38, who lives in Minneapolis. "Now I see that I'm not all right and my husband is not all wrong. There's more gray in life than I thought, and that's taught me patience and the value of compromise."

5. A great marriage doesn't mean no conflict; it simply means a couple keeps trying to get it right.

Maybe you think that because of my newfound wisdom, Genoveso and I never fight anymore. Ha! As important as it is to strike a balance, it's also important to have a big, fat fight every now and then. Because when you fight, you don't just raise your voices; you raise real -- sometimes buried -- issues that challenge you to come to a clearer understanding of you, your man, and your relationship. I wouldn't give up our fights for anything in the world, because I know in the end they won't break us; they'll only make us stronger.

6. You'll realize that you can only change yourself.

Ever seen the '80s sci-fi cult classic "Making Mr. Right?" When the stylish heroine, played by Ann Magnuson, is hired to teach a robot how to act like a human, she seizes the chance to create a perfect guy. A hotshot commercial whiz, she uses her marketing prowess to shape John Malkovich's android character into her personal version of the ideal man -- sensitive, eager to please, and willing to listen.

There is a bit of that makeover fantasy in all of us -- something that makes us believe we can change the person we love, make him just a little bit closer to perfect. We may use support and empathy or shouts and ultimatums, but with dogged conviction we take on this huge responsibility, convinced we're doing the right thing.

Whatever our motives, the effort is exhausting. Transforming a full-grown man -- stripping him of decades-old habits, beliefs, and idiosyncrasies -- is truly an impossible task. And you will come to realize, sooner than later if you're lucky, that it is far easier to change the way you respond to him.

7. As you face your fears and insecurities, you will find out what you're really made of.

There were clues when Genoveso and I were dating, especially with the trust thing. Early on, I was supersuspicious of him. He used to say things like, "I'll call you at 8." Then, just to try to trip me up, he'd call at 8. I knew he was up to something, I just couldn't figure out what. The same kinds of experiences followed after the wedding. Except occasionally he would actually mess up. And I had no sense of scale when it came to rating his offenses; everything was a major violation. Whether he teased me about a new haircut or came home late, I seethed for days and even let thoughts of divorce creep into my head. I figured, if he loved me -- really and truly -- this stuff wouldn't happen.

I'd like to be able to say that this irrational behavior lasted only a few months and I eventually worked it out. Kind of, sort of, is closer to the truth. After years of looking deeply into my soul and talking to good friends and the best sister a girl could ever have, I've come to recognize certain things about myself. Not to get all Dr. Phil about it, but I've had to examine my history with an emotionally distant dad and a strong-willed mom and face up to all the ways, both good and bad, that those relationships have affected how I approach my marriage.

That's the strange beauty of marriage: It's full of hard times and hard lessons that no one can ever prepare you for. But in the end, those are the things that give richness to your life together -- and make your love even deeper and stronger than when it began.

Reprinted with permission of Hearst Communications, Inc.

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speak or forever hold thy peace	[Nov. 29th, 2008\|03:18 pm]
(i dream of my parents very rarely. when i do, they are either facing another direction or outrightly have their backs to me. i do not know why i do dream of them, and in the manner that i do. people who purportedly pledge undying devotion to departed loved ones do not. i didnt pledge devotion. i promised fierce loyalty to their principles. or perhaps this is the cause? have i strayed? because one thing is common in the dreams--they always leave a message. but the following, i cannot for the life of me read.) i enter the guest room at the back of the dining area in the san juan, ilocos sur house. i am looking for my mother, who i suspect went into the bathroom there. two males -- i do not notice or recognize who -- tell me they've been trying to open the door to the bathroom, but it is locked, and no one is answering from the inside. but i know that mama is in there. so i knock. mama? i call out. ma? there is no answer. i start trying to shake the door by the knob. ma? i keep calling. i know she is in there. i do not feel urgency or dread, but i feel that i must check in on her. the knob loosens. i almost give up when the locking mechanism gives. i push the door backwards. the loo comes into view, but she isnt there. i know that she is in the shower area on the right. i wonder what has happened. i half expect her to be slumped on the tiles. she is not. on the tile floor is the old green bucket standing upside down, and on it, mama's feet, on tiptoe. i follow the figure up until i come to her face. she is looking at me, manifestly destroyed, eyes bloodshot but alive, cheeks smeared with what looked like sick. there is a white cord around her neck, her head is leaning to the left, but she is trying to keep from surrendering to her own weight, like this was a bad decision she was trying to correct, and she was failing miserably. i immediately raise my hands and hold her by the underarms, pushing her up. but she won't budge to help me or herself. her hands hang on her side, tired. resigned? why the hell did you do this? i ask, angry, almost in tears. i ask for scissors from someone. why did you do this? what do you want to say? i ask again and again. speak, i say. what is it that you want to say? i am in tears now. she wants to say something. i feel it. but she keeps her lips tightly together. i fight madness back. i need to be sane, alert. i need to hold her up. finally, someone hands me a pair of scissors. for a moment my right arm lets go of her, and she falls a bit. keep standing, i command, while i handle the scissors. i reach up to the taut cord behind her neck and start cutting. it takes three bites from the scissor blades, and five eternal seconds. my left hand is not able to hold mama up by itself. i keep asking her why she did it and what she wants to say even when and after the blades cut through the cord. i wake up to darkness. it is 4:30 in the morning.
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i pushed the man of god over	[Nov. 9th, 2008\|03:26 pm]
in the high school seminary that i graduated from, i am walking on the path from the chapel to the side of the main structure, at the right side, where there is an entrance going into the right corridor that leads to the 3rd- and 4th-year classrooms and the mess hall. as i enter, the spiral stairs at the left just inside the entrance stands solid and cold, one among the institution's many mute witnesses to the goings-on within the seminary walls. just beside it is the library door. something is happening inside, but i do not remember now what it is. i walk on along the corridor towards the direction of the lobby, and the inner court of the square building comes to view at 2:00. below, on the grass, is a long table where i see anthony divinagracia, the current editor-in-chief of the varsitarian, reading the news or otherwise working on something. there are people squatting on the corridor who try to chat me up, but i cannot remember who they are or what they say. i jump down to the grass, wanting also to do some paperwork on the table. anthony is gone. after a brief moment i stand up and get back up unto the corridor, climbing at the corner where the bell is. i see virgil encien and felinor bugtong on the corridor, squatting over some papers. virgil and felinor are part of my seminary class; they are from alilem, ilocos sur. they are all smiles, their disposition sunny, as though they were having fun. i look over virgil's shoulder and i see that he has before him sheets of bond paper with handwriting on them. i proceed to the spiral stairs. as i go up and around, i hear jeric jaramillo call my name and tell me to wait up. i look back and down, and i see him walk up to the stairs and start climbing. down the corridor, i see his parents walking slowly, talking, their direction definitely also for the stairs. jeric is the only one left in our seminary class who's still on the priesthood track. we are informed that he may be ordained as early as june next year. what's up? i ask. jeric doesn't answer. he just looks up at me with a smirk, and a look that says he might be up to something. a kind of dark, knowing smile, if you will. i continue walking up the stairs but more slowly now, to allow jeric to catch up. he continues to be silent. we finally get to the top of the stairs. i continue to walk, now into the seniors' study hall. i keep asking jeric what is up, but he just keeps on walking behind me, that smile still on his face. behind him, his parents are still walking and talking, oblivious to everything else. beyond the study hall, instead of ending up in the seniors' dormitory, the corridor is the same as the one below it, only 2 stories higher: it is open at the side facing the inner court. i keep walking. when i get near the end of the hallway, jeric suddenly, without word, pushes me over the edge. i manage to stall the fall by balancing. but just as i am actually about to fall backwards, jeric reaches out and pulls me back by the hand. his face is still nonchalant. he says something but i do not catch it. once i am firmly on the corridor again, i push him over the edge. but i discover that he is heavy. but i want to push him over. i feel that i want him to fall. angered and/or frustrated, i push again. and again for the third time, when finally he loses his balance over the edge and falls backwards. i do not see him hit the ground. on the corridor, his parents are still walking up to where we were, slowly, and talking.
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where is/was the threshold?	[Nov. 5th, 2008\|04:46 pm]
i seem to have lost the lamppost where divided my worlds are. i have been imprisoned in this horrid landscape where formal and unyielding words defy the entreaties of my pen. the times, the people, the images have changed into colorlessness, dreary silverprints to eyes that have been rendered unable to see the life beyond, within. perhaps i have, have been, changed. oh, to see the other side again. have i given up immortality? have i cut my wings?
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the man, the box, and the baby

[Oct. 20th, 2008|07:23 pm]

i am walking up a path that looks like a street in corinthian hills, the one leading to the subdivision’s exit near the clubhouse. up ahead, before the turn, there is a small tree. under the tree i see a brown balikbayan box, and a man in black pacing beside it. i cannot recall exactly what the man is wearing, but it looks like a black polo shirt and black pants.

as i walk nearer, he goes behind the box and squats. he places two hands on the box and starts gnawing at its edge. i observe that the box has scratch marks directly where his hands are placed, and while he chews away at the box’s edge, his eyes are blankly staring ahead, crazed. i notice that the box is partly open, and see a cylindrical form the color of skin inside, across the opening. it looks like a leg.

at this point i notice that a small ledge has been nailed to the tree trunk, and on it, a baby is crouched, wiggling or wriggling, but it doesn’t fall.

i turn and walk back.

***

i am in a small garage.

parked there is a red mazda; it looks like an old rx model, boxy. i walk up to the driver’s side, and i see rj in the driver’s seat. i observe that the dashboard has been modified, with all sorts of contraptions and blinking lights.

rj tries to maneuver out of the garage, but cannot. he gives up, and when he tries to get down, i notice how small the space in the driver’s seat is. so instead of just opening the door, he first also pushes the steering wheel upward, like the lid of a box, so he can get out.

would you let me try? i ask. he merely looks at me.

he decides to stay in the driver’s seat to try again. i walk around the car to the passenger seat and get in.

he finally gets the car out of the garage and we start driving. automatically, i know that a hose had been attached to the front bumper of the car, and i turn it on for the purpose of hosing down each person that we drive by. I don’t succeed, as the direction of the water follows the direction of the car, so i miss our targets every time the car makes a small turn.

then i discover that there is a lever on the dashboard in front of me. when i manipulate it, i discover that it controls the hose, so that i can turn it any which way i want it to. i am now able to hit targets more effectively and accurately, despite the car’s movements and direction. we succeed in hosing down a few bystanders.

***

i am back on the street in corinthian hills, in the same position as in the earlier part of the dream. i am once again walking up and toward the exit near the clubhouse.

the box and the man are still there, and so is the baby, still seated in a fetal position on the ledge nailed to the tree.

as i walk nearer, the man is still chewing on the edge of the box. but this time i do not turn back. i walk right on past, but somehow with a feeling of dread. when i walk past them, i look back at the baby and mutter, god bless you.

i feel – i know – that the man in black has stood up, is wearing a black bowler hat, and is now walking behind me. i hear him muttering. the feeling of dread increases.

i see the gate, but i feel that if i walk out of them, the man will either mug me or otherwise make contact, and i feel as if i don’t want that.

i turn to my left, and see rev. rolando de la rosa in his white soutane, pacing just inside the gate. we lock eyes and acknowledge each other, but i hesitate to approach him.

just before i walk out of the gates, however, i decide that i will let the man in black go out before me. i find an excuse to lag behind by turning and approaching the priest, who engages me in small talk. i turn to look at the gate, and beyond them, outside, i see the man walking straight ahead, still muttering.

i wake up to licks behind my neck.

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26 things

[Oct. 9th, 2008|10:03 pm]

it is the tenth hour, post meridiem, ninth of the tenth month, twenty-oh-eight.

1. when it rains, there is an unwritten law, according to taxi drivers, that i should not go home. to sampaloc.

2. the average, usual, run-of-the-mill, i-drive-this-taxi-for-a-living taxi driver will rather drive around for hours without a passenger if the hailing ones will take them away from the scenic route. you can bet on it. a taxi driver will circle robinson’s place ermita seven times just to find a "cooperative" passenger. the devil knows why.

3. what’s wrong with muntinlupa? or malabon? people, flooding in dapitan is worse than that in malabon. except perhaps where the regional trial court is found.

4. the mandaluyong city hall is one big zen fountain on a rainy day.

5. a.t.t.y. – akala (ng) tao todo yaman

6. “wow, lawyer ka na!?...”

a. “…libre naman dyan.”

b. “…donation naman dyan.”

c. “…siguro marami kang chicks.”

d. “…puta pare magtipid ka.”

e. “…painom ka naman dyan.”

f. “…anong car mo?”

g. “…bar-ops mo ako ha.”

h. “…o-order na ba ako ng kambing?”

i. “…ikaw nga e, di ka pa nanlilibre."

j. "...ang galing ah... LIBRE KA NAMAN."

7. in the office, the people are downloading invitations from restaurants and spreading emails of an alleged invitation to lunch, care of yours truly. i look at the cash in my wallet, compute my total savings (yep, i can, just in my head) viz-a-viz my liabilities and the responsibilities i have to bear, and say “kayo talaga..” with a goodnatured laugh.

8. outside the office, after a hearing, the opposing counsel offers me a ride in his car (which he used that day instead of his van) because he’s going my way anyway. i righteously and courteously decline, pointing to the beat-up taxi that i had waiting. the driver, with whom i had a lively chat about growing up in the province on the way to the court, waves to say he is ready.

9. i suppose it doesn’t hurt to talk to people about cars and gadgets and investments. you used to do so. and you know the topics anyway. sometimes better than they do.

10. mediocrity catches up. if you care enough to notice. or if you were used to a more goal-driven past life enough, for that matter.

11. so this is how “unfeeling” feels. how empty. what is it that you want, anyway? or does that matter, even, considering how all your life you have not deprived yourself of things you want, anyway?

12. the eldest is finally living together with his family. that is what he wanted in the first place. he finally got it after waiting for six years. in between, he travelled 200 kilometers every weekend to be with his family.

13. i can only be fond of you from a distance, these days. i may not be able to keep the promises i made while i sang you to sleep. though i know you will find your own way. don’t falter when the goal is within reach. be stronger.

14. the same for you, young one. thank you for the greeting. i will be watching from a distance.

15. jeepney fare was at 3.50 minimum in 1999. today it’s 8.50. how i’ve forgotten the crowdedness inside when it’s full, the smell of passengers squeezing from all sides. i am remembering how it was so crude, so slow a mode of transportation, so polluted, so dangerous. and so free.

16. bus drivers are still crazy, i am finding out. i find myself nostalgic, too. how many years have passed since i last took to riding buses in the metro?

17. there are a lot of pretty women who take the late buses on ortigas avenue, beside robinson’s galeria, bound for quiapo. some are in corporate attire, some in department store uniforms.

18. at least (and it’s good that) i still love walking. despite the improper shoes. at least (and it’s good that) i still do not want more than i need. at least (and it’s good that) it is not too late to change. thank you for the reminder. i will always be beholden to you for two things, now. keep teaching.

19. for the price of a grande mocha frappucino, one can get a cheese deluxe, large fries, and large drinks at mcdonald’s. and get some 18 pesos back.

20. your cholesterol is at its highest since you were diagnosed hypertensive. should you buy the prescribed medicine? didn’t you always believe that life is short, anyway, and ask, “what is life without living on the edge?” the doctor did say it’s genetic. nothing you can do about it.

21. no football, writing, travelling, and all sorts of experimenting for now. maybe nude photography.

22. i am always curious as to how people know. even people i don’t expect to know or remember. and how people seem to care more about it at this age, than i ever have since i was… 11. but there are those who forget or have forgotten, too, which proves that time does fly, and people change. or maybe it’s me who has.

23. how limited choices are, once again, by circumstances. you should be used to it by now.

24. i will always remember. it’s a gift and a curse.

25. that guy up there has got a wicked sense of humor. dark. must be having a beer or two… cases? with my father.hey you. tell the folks i love them, and that i’m sorry i’m being me again. people say i turned out well. maybe i still will. who knows what happens when you next roll the dice with the universe?

26. thank you, everyone. sincerely. but i need a long and deep retreat.

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echoes of a fading memory

[Aug. 27th, 2008|02:33 pm]

these are gibberish i found in old computer file folders. two are attempts at starting a story (i (havent written a fairly decent one since 2004). one is a journal thing, i suppose.

***

The outlines of trees were black against an ashen sky. Beneath them, their trunks seemed to reach up to this darkened heaven, where a waxing half-moon hid partly, teasingly, behind her veil of clouds.

Despite their greatness, the trees failed, and so did Dito’s outstretched arm. He closed his hand into a fist like it was holding on to something, for support perhaps of his unsure steps, sleepless as he was for the entire duration of the trip. But his balled hand fell resignedly to his side, and, head lolling in exhaustion, he continued to drag his feet down the cement road, whose protruded stones now proved uncooperative to his toes, when once the street was so familiar that barefoot he ran its entirety aware of all the cracks and uneven areas.

Neither was this all that had somehow changed. Even at the ungodly hour, Dito could see that the great acacia that marked the entrance to his barangay was barer, appearing more so considering that it was night and the leaves were closed, like hands in prayer. The leaves had gone like years that made their pass, and even in the moonlit surroundings he could see that the trunk showed signs that the great acacia is slowly decaying from the inside.

It

(nothing follows)

***

Tina's song

Ten years is a long time, no matter what the elders say about how seasons fly. Ten years is enough to wear down the concrete road that leads up to the old Church. The larger stones in that layer under the cement now poke their heads out, catching the tips of my Rockports every now and then. It is either that or I just have not walked this street for years, have become a stranger to it, when as a kid I could run up and down it barefoot, intimate with all its cracks and uneven sections.

I look up after a particularly nasty bump that sends a shock up my shin.

(nothing follows)

***

Heaven cries when it rains, the old folks told me when I was but a small runt. And yet I reveled every time heaven cried, dancing on puddles or swimming in swollen creeks. But as I grew little by little I began to pause midromp to look at the dark sky and wonder why it cried. Sometimes, the tears gushed; sometimes they were shy, like a little girl hiding behind her mother’s skirt. I didn’t mind when it was the latter, but I went out to the rain every time it howled, to my own mother’s great consternation. But it wasn’t as much revelry anymore as it was walking under the rain, feeling the precipitate drum on my shoulders. I began to like it when heaven cried, for entirely new reasons, even if I had to battle bouts of fever afterwards. I began to share with it my own cries, letting it wash them down into the ground, into canals, and into the rivers. It has since become the most welcoming cold I know.

(nothing follows)

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i wrote the following poem after a night of beer at the bar of arkdia, where i used to hang out, alone or with friends, in my college and law school years. arkdia is no longer. the poem is posted on http://www.poetry.com/dotnet/P5930351/999/1/display.aspxOffering

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i wrote the following poem after a night of beer at the bar of arkdia, where i used to hang out, alone or with friends, in my college and law school years. arkdia is no longer. the poem is posted on http://www.poetry.com/dotnet/P5930351/999/1/display.aspx

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