When I needed saving, it was family who was there. No questions, no too much probing. Just warm hugs and assurance that whatever I had been through, God is there with me. And when I mean family, it’s not just my sisters, in-laws, aunts, nieces, and nephews. They were also nuns and religious, childhood friends, Barakos, CYP, Powers, strangers, mothers, homos of every kind, ex dates, and girls and boys I never imagined I would be hoes with. Family comes in many shapes and sizes and I have been given family wherever I go.

To the people who welcomed me as their family, thank you. You know who you are. From this heart to yours is a prayer of gratitude.

Yesterday, we welcomed our very first clients to our new pioneering program, the Assessment Center, for children who were survivors of OSEC (online sexual exploitation of children). Two girls, not more than twelve years old were brought to us after their inquest in NBI headquarters. I imagine them answering adult questions that could have significant negative contribution to their trauma. I was told that when the rescuers brought them to NBI, they had to wear something like cloth sacks on their heads.

Today I made sure to meet them. It has always been my routine whenever I get to any of our shelters scattered all around the country to meet our girls and get acquainted even if it is not actually part of my role in the organization. I greeted our first two girls in the Assessment Center just before their lunch. I introduced myself and made some funny remarks to make them feel welcome. For years these girls endured exploitation which they did not know about. To them, showing up on the webcam and posing daring positions meant nothing but a child’s play.

The argument of the perpetrators represents a moral dilemma and a very gray area of excuse: children are not physically abused; they are neither touched nor subjected to any actual physical sexual interaction. In front of a webcam or a cheap mobile phone, in that hyper reality technology provides, the proclivity of the human heart brought about new ways of exploitation while safeguarding both the enterprise and those who solicit it.

I looked at our two new girls and I caught their smiles. Somehow, the thought of knowing that they are now free from their uncle who tells them to pose on the camera gives me comfort. "What then are these children going to be?" Our work begins.

We are starting this new program without virtual financial support. It is a significant part of my job to make sure that our shelters and our programs are fiscally supported. I approached several donors already but we didn’t get lucky yet and the year is ending. With so many problems in development we face today and so little donor base, it is really challenging for me to do my work. A little part of me thinks that I have failed them.

But I am consoled by the fact that this is God’s business, not mine.

He will provide.



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I was waiting at a traffic light to cross the road with Haruki, a Japanese friend. It was a lazy Sunday afternoon in a small town on the Tokyo outskirts and there was not a vehicle or soul in sight so I turned to Haruki and said, “Hey I know it's a red, man but should we just cross?” Haruki looked at me and shook his head. “No. We wait for the green, man.”

I was a bit perplexed it did not seem to me that it would make any difference whether we waited or not.

“There aren't any cars, why do we need to wait?”

Haruki smiled then asked me a question in return,

“What if a child is watching?”


Now I know what they mean when they say it takes a village to raise a child.
(Sze Yao Tan, 2004)

At 23, I became the youngest manager in an international development organization. At 24, I was already managing a whole team responding to disasters and building resilient communities. I drive my own car, I live by myself, and I can eat as many sashimis that I want. I have traveled to many countries and cities, worked with the state and in international bodies, seen hundreds of sunsets and woke up in hundred beds that are not mine. I partied, I traveled, I drank to my limits. At 25, I'm having the best time of my life.

It was not enough. People closest to me know I never stick to one thing for a long period. I would always go for something better, something higher. I am restless.

Somewhere in my heart, I know I'm not only made to be like this person. I knew I could take this love for life to a higher level. My decision was a product of uncomfortable experiences and intense prayers. I had one month to say good bye to everyone and everything. It was difficult and very tiring to squeeze dozens of goodbye meetups while rendering extra hours at work, boxing up possessions and sending them away to different addresses, drinking and merrying and enjoying my last days as a secular man.

Thirty days ago, I made my way to Baguio. This city set in mountain ranges has a certain charm that I always like so when I was informed that the formation years will be spent in Baguio, I knew my decision was right. In exchange, my life became smaller and I don't have the remote control to everything anymore. I have to wake up daily at five in the morning, spend at least five hours in prayer, eight in studies, and the rest of the day to community activities. The food is tolerable, the accommodation minimum. I had to obey younger people and submit myself to the scrutiny of formators who may or may not decide that I shall become one of them. During the first week I had a crisis and deeply considered backing out. I don't seem to fit. I still have not fulfilled my duties to my sisters and brothers. I have big dreams and I have this insatiable proclivity to discover the world. While praying, I came across a passage that assured me. My grace is enough for you. For in your weakness, power reaches perfection. So here I am, persevering.

When Jesus asked his first disciples "follow me", sequere me, they left everything behind. Their response was radical and total. I left friends, families, possessions, a possible version of my life where I am a family man with six kids and a partner to spend the rest of my life, my little collection of everything. So now my life is being rewritten and I'm not it's author. Pray for me.

I'm happy.

Kanina, binati ko ang lola ko ng maligayang kaarawan.

"Happy birthday, Amma! Kamusta?"

"Eto awa ng Diyos eh nalagpasan ang baha. Dapat nandito ka, nakita mo sana."

"Pasensya ha. Mejo napalayo ang trabaho ko. Uwi ako ng October."

"Kelan? Anong araw?"

"Di ko po alam, basta October. Papasyal ulit tayo kaya wag kang magkakasakit ha."

"Oo naman. Ako pa. Salamat sa pagbati, anak."

"Teka, ilang taon ka na ba? Bilang mo pa?"

"Singkwenta."

Amma is 82 today and her birthday falls on the feast day of St. Clare. With advancing Alzheimer's disease, she would still vividly remember the boy that was I and perhaps still. That good, obedient and faithful boy she used to bring to kindergarten class. She celebrated her birthday today in the midst of the aftermath of the high floods in our Marikina home. But no disaster can dampen the faith of this little old woman. She would speak lively over the phone, even joking about our sorry condition. For this, I am grateful that I am her favorite grandson.

Amma's life of unwavering love and service to her family bears witness to the true definition of commitment. St. Clare put it this way:

What you hold, may you always hold,
What you do, may you always do and never abandon.
But with swift pace, light step,
unswerving feet,
so that even your steps stir up no dust,
may you go forward
securely, joyfully, and swiftly,
on the path of prudent happiness,
not believing anything
that would dissuade you from this resolution
or that would place a stumbling block for you on the way,
so that you may offer your vows to the Most High
in the pursuit of that perfection
to which the Spirit of the Lord has called you.
- from the letter of St. Clare to Agnes

Happy birthday, Virginia. To me, you will always be fifty or seventy or eighty two, as you like it.

She turns another year today. Last year, I bought her a nice black rocky dress from Cambio. I do not know what to give her this time. With Yuri Eliazar barely two months old, she still manages to take care of my three other sisters. That is a feat I tell you.

And to this woman who is so compassionate and ever trusting, whose idea of family I would never understand, I would forever be thankful. Thankful for assuming the position of a parent when Mama went on, thankful for her confidence that someday, we will all shift sands. If there is ever a woman so resilient and so fierce at the same time, that would be my eldest sister.

When things went crazy in my big and uber extended family (that is when I scold my older cousins to take charge of everything they are so lazy about), I realized I do not need a big family. I just need a brother and a father that I have to love nonetheless, three younger sisters I fancy so much, a grandmother who is so dear to me, and an elder sister I would always be thankful for.

Ohana. Family.

Save. Publish.

From the nowhere I used calling home, I wandered the streets trying to hide the evidence of a word fight with the righteous person inside the house. There were a lot that day for me to bear. And sometimes, to save your sanity, things should be half remembered.

This is what passes when a boy grew up and finally becomes a man.

Sometimes, I wonder why I could only write when I am sad. Maybe, just maybe, it is because all that I should only write is what is profound. So forgive me, bored readers.

All I want was to be happy that day. Just that. To visit the long gone parent, to remember. On mornings when you just arrived from call whoring, you do not have enough energy to shout or to complain. I am never good at fighting so I never start one. I just slip away if necessary. So I do not start a fight. All I want is to be happy that day. To remember. Very simple. I want to be happy.

Once I complained to Kane why some people could hoard happiness. I just really wish happiness is tattoo- ever there, black and permanent.

I only want company with them, no things more than that. If a brother refuses company because he will visit the grave the next week with his girlfriend, fine. But if a father tells you he does not want to come because he does not believe to the teachings of the church about the dead and that he prefers watching action movies, fuck. That's when you start to fire the first war shot. You can do many things when you are mad. I only did two things. I rant and cried. More often than not, we rarely use proper reason and argument with people close to your heart. Because we use our heart so you may only hurt them much.

That was what happened. That was not planned.

Good thing friends are always handy- ready to accompany you anywhere, any time of the day, where a single family member would not dare to join you.

Pictures, they say, make us remember. I only remember how angry and pitiful I was to myself for the very first time.

When I grow up. Swear. I will never be like you.

From where I am sitting right now, there is neither a bottle of beer or a cup of coffee. Maybe, just maybe, I missed the train on platform nine and three quarters.

Sometimes, happiness is cheap. And sometimes, even with all the savings you have, you do not know if you can ever afford it.

Updating status: wandering.


This is buying time and hoping that by doing so, I can become someone.

This is greeting new faces and trying to remember the old.

This is saying words I really do not mean and feel good about it.

This is going home and finding home anywhere else;

waking up so others may sleep.

This is not sadness. This is about silent struggle for serenity.

This is the kind of life I lead. And this life is not for everyone.

Most of the time it's true. That life, is not, always as we know it.

The blogger wishes her sister good luck and thank you. Yes, she's going to be a Peralta on Sunday.
(I just really wish her motif is not apple green.)

76 or 79?
I was born on 1931. Do the Math.
But your fading senior citizen's card tells you were 60 on 1994.
Never mind municipal records. I was born on 1931.
Fine. You are 79 then. Happy birthday.

She woke me up three minutes before the 6AM Mass in Monasterio de Santa Clara. Virginia, my Amma (grandmother), celebrates her birthday along with the feast of the religious virgin. I told her it is ironic that her birthday falls on the same date Catholics remember a pious woman. She didn't like my joke and hit me with a bottled water.

Believe it. My coolest barkada is a 79ner


She knows almost everything from leafy plants to broken hearts (though I never dared to talk about this with her. She is preachy I tell you.) She forgets dates but would always remember memories. Of all nicknames I have, her calling me Edjey is something sweet next to ice cream. Difference in language is never a struggle for her to gossip in Cebuano, Kapampangan, Ilokano, Pangalatok or Tagalog because she is very well versed.

Amma is a small woman with a big faith in her God. I think that is the common thing I share with her.

Ikaw lang ang kamukha ng nanay mo. Salamat nandyan ka. Madalas ang kasama kong lumabas dati eh sya. Kung buhay yun ngayon, kaming dalawa siguro barkada mo.

Someone said we do not remember days; we remember moments. The thing with Amma is she remembers so well; the countless sampaguita garlands she have graced, her struggles as a single parent in her 40's, the days she buried her son and daughters one after the other, the days she spent taking care of us as kids, every flood she had to flee from, every little accidents she had met. You can sit beside her and she will tell all in vivid details and emotions. And for someone who has nothing but a wardrobe of everyday clothes and imported soaps, generosity is a virtue she holds so well.

Memories. Amma had endured enough sacrifices through her life that I simply want to fill her memory with good moments. I want her to remember that she is being well taken care of, is being cherished, is being so valued. She had seen failure many times that all a grandchild could do is to give her are hours of dinner dates, occassional ice cream sessions and a ready heart to listen to her repeated stories.

For her I am still a boy of five she desperately teaches how to sing. The truth is I am her nineteen year older grandson trying to understand her stories lost in exact date and time.

She wears her age like a crown. And if it is really a physical crown, hers should be a heavy one laden with seventy nine diamonds twinkling like stars in the August night sky.

Nung nakaraang taon, excited akong maging disi-otso anyos. Sinalubong ko ang pagpapalit ng araw habang nakatanga sa station ko, naghihintay ng tawag mula sa mga Kano. Walang nakaka-alam sa buong opisina na espesyal ang araw na yun para sa akin. Lingid sa lahat, tahimik akong nagsasaya.

Isang taon makalipas, palihim kong binago ang petsa ng kaarawan ko sa Facebook. Gusto ko kasing malaman kung sino sino sa mga taong kilala ko ang makaka-alala, gawa na din na ayaw kong maging maingay ang kaarawan ko. Gusto ko ding malaman kung sino ang mga mag-eeffort na itext ako kahit Sun ang number ko. Wala lang, trip lang ba.

Pero fail. Flooded ang Facebook page ko.

 Her life was a perfect mix of enthusiasm, vibrancy and delight. She could have been forty eight this year, probably busy panic buying school supplies and uniforms or spending long hours in swimming lessons with Papa. Of all Tolentinos, she was the only one who cannot swim, an irony for having a professional swimmer as spouse. She was the PTA president of my little sisters' classes since they started school. An activist during the heights of the Marcos regime, she continued to defy conventions on her own grounds until her last breath.

 She was a Gabriela Silang. She had been on local news several times, either embracing a ballot box as if its the single most important thing in her life or as an interviewed protester against illegal demolition in the 90's. She was poor and has the dignity of a well educated woman. She has an unshakable faith and is very good with morals and ethics. She is the brightest person I ever know, a woman full of light, a woman for others.

Family went to Mama's grave last night and they didn't inform me. I could have rendered halfday kung sinabi nila kagad. Gah.

I went home after work. First time in three weeks. Everyone is seated in the living room except for Julius who went to a lamay. Dahil pamilya kami ng mga makwento at usisero, nagkwentuhan kami.

So it came to my knowledge that Amma, Papa, Eliza and Mendy voted for Richard Gordon. My lola even said to me, " Transporters. Si Gordon ang presidente ko. May problema ka?" showing to me her inked finger.

We were teasing her when I asked her whom she voted for vice president. "Hindi ko matandaan. Basta yung may bilog sa gilid." We were all laughing. Sobrang benta. And for that, I asked to sleep beside her. Di naman tumanggi. Niyakap ko nga. " Basta wag kang uutot, papaluin kita."

Good times. :)

In a neighborhood that has given Erap significant number of votes in each precinct, my folks picked the presidentiable whose consistent principles and philosophies are guided by careful judgement and wisdom. My father spent some years of his life is Subic military base and could have seen how Olongapo changed. My sister who voted in Olongapo must have known Gordon's influence to this awesome city. My Lola watches television a lot. Gordon might have impressed her with his 50wpm skill during interviews and debates.

I just so love my family. <3


+AMDG

To us, family means putting your arms around each other and being there.

-Barbara Bush

Yes, after two years nag-family outing ulit kami. :)

Personal request ni Amma na magpapicture sa malaking havs. haha. eksena ng buong resort lola ko when she played with the waves.

Pop ang Hana enjoying the pool. All of us learned to swim thanks to his throw-and-kick-and-float lesson of when we were still kids. My father was a Certified life-saver of Red Cross before he became a full time life guard of Manila Peninsula. Of course you know that he is now a bummer. lol

Eliza and her boyfriend, kuya Jun. My eldest sister loves taking pictures, boasting of her new dslr. Looking in her bags, she found out that she forget to bring it. Kulang na lang, halughugin nya ang buong van. Andami kaseng dalang kung ano-ano tulad ng tatlong klase ng sun block, mga sun glasses, beach shorts, havainas float, mini rice cooker, books, and lotsa foods! Haha. So ayun, nakuntento kami sa kanyang cellphone. Epic fail pero super enjoy pa din :)

 

Camwhore ang pamilya ko kaya lunod ang mga facebook accounts namin ng tagged pictures. Mula sa tita kong prof sa letran at feu na madalang pa sa mag-pasa ng estudyante kung mag-facebook hanggang sa nine years old kong kapatid eh active sa pag-comment sa mga pictures. haha

I am glad that my family have moved on from my Mama's passing that after two years of emotional longing and brokeness, we have found each other full of radiance and light ready to face a truth that future would still be fun without her. Ito na marahil ang opisyal na pagtatapos ng pagdadalamhati ng aming pamilya at ang simula ng pagharap sa mas matingkad na mga posibilidad. We became more open to each other that we even talked about my younger brother's girlfriend na dinala nya sa bahay isang araw. I am glad that we have learned and grown up. Haay, I wish Mama was with us laughing and enjoying the uber sweet spaghetting pambata. haha

Ma, wherever you are, I want you to know that I am trying hard to be a real good brother and a better person. I will not disappoint you. Never.

We will go to you one of these days. See you soon.

Hindi na kami lumayo sa aming bayan dahil ang init sa daan. Ang mga larawan ay kuha sa 8 Waves Waterpark and Hotel, San Rafael, Bulacan.

The bond that links your true family is not one of blood, but of respect and joy in each other's life.

-Richard Bach

+AMDG

If it will happen that one of these days you will find out that I write about you, please do not think that I am angry. A brother is always a brother and kuya keeps that.

You were Papa and Mama’s favorite child. As the only brother I have, I took charge of looking after you when I was six and you were four and until we went to the same school since Papa was working in Saudi. Mama had the clearest instruction to me: look after you closely. Although I never had the chance to be your bestfriend, I always found a way to know your actions and activities. See, I know your secrets without you knowing that I do.

I went to high school and you were grade four when I graduated. I was excelling and putting our last name in school activities and all that. Soon we were three Tolentinos in school. All were expecting you and Jesusa to be good or perhaps better than me, your mathematically-challenged brother. Soon I heard of the stories that you were writing, er, vandalizing on papers and walls. You had become a regular client of the guidance office. You were starting to get pimples and friends who enjoy after class skateboarding and inuman and our parents were alarmed. Still, my knowledge of your goodness makes me hope that your dilemmas will soon come to pass.

You never finished a year like a regular student because you failed to pass subjects like Filipino, TLE and Social Studies. We always enroll you for summer classes. We even transferred you in the province for your junior year thinking that that might solve your issues. No, we were wrong. March came and you were back home to take summer classes and enroll right after in our old high school. We were a bit confident this time that you will make amendments with yourself since this is your last chance. I cannot follow your whereabouts faithfully now since I need to stop college and earn a living and help in our family’s needs. I know what it is to lose a mother in your teen years, brother. But losing a mother when you are in high school does not mean that you need to forget life’s important lessons. We did not stop you from skateboarding, tight jeans, rock bands and occasional drinking only that we keep on reminding you to ask permission and go home in time. You failed most of the time.

Then one day you sent me a text message asking me to talk with the guidance officers because your graduation permit was held. I was in rage, so much rage I felt for the first time. I cannot contain my anger and I was shouting at you on the phone. I was crying when I put down the phone. I contacted ate and went to your classroom the next day.

The decision was final. You will not graduate this March. My power and connections would not save you a slot for graduation. I know now why you were hesitant to take entrance exams. I perfectly understand when you said that you were having a hard time coping with your subjects but what puzzles me much is why you need to skip Values Education subject, bring cheap brandy in class, remove school logo on your uniforms and write pathetic words like 'drown' and 'anarchy' on school walls. You were never active in school protests like me and there is no reason for you to do so.

 

Did we ask you much? All that we were asking from you is to graduate and eventually get to college. Did I ask you to win contests? Did I ask you to be active on extra-curricullar activities? No, brother. I, we, did not. You had a very little piece of our family’s woes. You do not know how much anticipation we have in seeing you wearing toga. March will be just another March because you will not be graduating.

I want to curse and spank and kick you but I cannot simply because there is this something in my self that knows you are not to be cursed and be spanked and be kicked. I was in pain to know that you will not graduate but that does not mean that I was ashamed of you. You are still a brother and because of that we hope you will like the new pair of shoes we bought the afternoon we went to your school and talked with the guidance counselors.

Someday you will know why I stick with you despite your long list of offenses. I only hope that it will not be late when that dawns on you.

POST SCRIPT:

It was a draft dating February 2010.

Julius graduated last March 31, 2010 after a second thought deliberation on his case. Funny to note that majority of his teachers were my teachers too, giving him much consideration. His English teacher (who was my Journalism adviser) told me that Julius and I are not the same but his leadership is distinct. She even told me that he is good with music, surprising to know that he can read notes.

And yep I was there watching him on the video screen, getting his diploma.



+AMDG

He turned 51 yesterday. With gray hairs starting to dominate and more lines appearing on his calm face, I watched him pulling chairs outside to accomodate two more persons in the circle of a drinking session. Convinced not to blow the candle on his chocolate cake, he proceeded to get more bottles of beer from the fridge. The whole house was the smell of pork steak and chicken barbecue coming from the grill he set up at the garden. He really has never failed to tease my appetite. Beside being a father, there are three things that I can associate this man with: Good food, movies and music.

After putting down my bag, I hurried to get his hand for blessing which he did not refuse. Kaawaan ka ng Dyos he said. Fathers are like potatoes. They come in all shapes and sizes which cannot be described but all have the same taste. I'm done with my fatherly rants and fine with the potato I got. I just need to double time appreciating him and his potato feelings.

---
When I left home some weeks ago, I was full of contempt that I didn't have much to say to him before I left. After hailing a cab, I brought out all my things from the room I share with my brother without a word. He was there at the living room watching an action movie as he used to do. I left our house for good to give more space to our relationship but really I never left home. They are still my family and it is with them where my heart is.
---

Papa is the person that I hate and love at the same time. He listens to country, folk, OPM and even rock songs that it is so natural to him to like Glee ( just imagine your own father crazy about glee. nakakatawa pramis.) He is so devoted to his religion and tried to win me every chance without success. He loves Hannah and Habi so much that he spoils them. He gets drunk easily. He cannot be defeated on shouting match. He obeys my ate who fondly calls him My Romeo. He can repair anything from unruly dvd player to toliet bowl that does not sink. All my neighbors respect him. I will never understand the man I have as a father: loving, clumsy, moody and cool in his own ways.

We cannot choose what kind of father we can get because in this lifetime, fathers and families are given variables. We just have to accept who they are and learn to accept their personality. I am done looking for superman. I guess I need to settle with Homer Simpson instead.

If there is a part of me that hates this man so much, there too is a kid in me that refuses to grow up and still believes that fathers give toys and candies. I may never be the ideal son for him and he can never be the best man in my life but honestly, I am thankful that I have him as a father. I may never get what I want but surely, what I have is always a part of the bigger plan.

Happy birthday Pop. I never stop believing.

The dusk falls quickly
everytime you spend half of your lifetime
upside down.

The stars that make up your vain glory,
And the celestials that joined you
are eternally cursed
along with your self proclaimed beauty-
the heavens are always greater
than the depths of the sea.

So whenever the stargazer points at you
on cold Christmas nights,
she could only wish of seeing the Leonids'-
confused rocks known for their generosity.

Because seeing you upside down,
is seeing her self in the same position as yours.
Unfitting and shameful
somnambulant and weeping.
(oh, but you never weep from now.)
No. No, there are no wailings and loud rages.
Just silent, just serene.
Mute and uncomplaining.

And I know why you are like that.

You always have hope
hope that the day will come.
That the stars will get tired of telling lores and myths
and stop deciding the fate of a man or mankind.

You are positive.

You always point to Polaris.




*Cassiopeia, the mother of Andromeda, was beautiful, arrogant and vain, and it was these latter two characteristics which were to lead to her downfall. Poseidon placed her in the heavens in such a position that she circles the celestial pole in an upside-down position for half the time.

Written in memory of Josefina, I have not forgetten what you said while lying on that funny hospital bed.

Alam mo yung pakiramdam na gusto mong magalit sa syota mong umutot kaso hindi mo magawa dahil pilit kang umuunawa? Eh yung pakiramdam ng nagpapawis ng malamig gawa ng natatae ka pero nasa jeep ka pa at malayo ka pa sa bahay mo?

Kung naransan mo na ang isa jan, alam mo ang nararamdaman ko ngayon.

Eto ang mahirap sa mga nagpapanggap na mga malalakas na tao. Kahit gusto mong lumayo muna sandali sa responsibilidad mo bilang superhero, wala kang paraan para tumakbo. Hindi mauubos ang nanghihingi ng saklolo. Kaya maski nauubos na ang bait mo sa katawan ay wala kang magawa, nakahon na kasi ang sarili mo sa pagiging martir na walang maliw.

Nagsasawa na kong umako ng lahat. Pero wala akong magawa.

Ayoko ng drumama. Hindi bagay sa akin. Hindi dapat sa akin.

Hmmkei. Smile. Di na ko ulit magsusulat ng ganto. Nayayamot lang ako.

Una kong narinig ang Giniling Festival sa iPod mo. Ewan. Alam ko nung una pa na hinding hindi magkakasundo ang hilig natin sa musika. Nagtatalo tayo kapag screamo (yun ang tawag mo sa genre na sumisigaw at umaalulong ang bokalista) ang pinapatugtog mo. Pero ngayong wala ka sa bahay, palihim kong pinatugtog ang isang buong album ng Giniling Festival sa laptop. Naalala kita at ang mga panahong tumitipa ka sa gitarang mong tadtad ng sticker.

Humingi ka ng pang-dalawang linggong baon sa akin. Pero isang linggo lang ang binigay ko. Baka kasi hindi ka na naman umuwi ng maaga kapag marami kang pera.

Maski labag sa gusto ko, pinabayaan kitang mag-skateboard kasama ng mga mukang adik mong tropa. Lagi kitang pinapauwi kapag nakikita kitang nagpapadausdos sa kalye. Andami mo nakasing gasgas at sugat. Alam kong yamot ka lagi sa ganun pero sinusunod mo ko. Pwede ka namang humindi. Pero hindi mo ginawa.


Marami kang kalokohan sa skwela. Pero dahil ako ang kuya mo, inintindi kita. Alam ko kasi magbabago ka din balang araw.

Ikaw lang ang kapatid kong lalaki. Ikaw ang paborito ni Amma at ni Papa. Hindi ko lang alam kung anong nangyayari at lagi kayong hindi magkasundo ng tatay mo. Nayayamot ako na naaawa tuwing nag-aaway at nabubugbog ka. Parehas kayong mali ng tatay mo. Galit ako sa inyong dalawa. Pero parehas din akong naawa. Nung gabing nabasag ang ilong mo sa baseball bat na hinampas sayo, ako ang unang nasaktan. Walang kasing sakit ng makita ko kayong magtatay na halos magpatayan. Ako ang nahirapan patigilin ang dugo sa sugat sa ilong mo. Hindi ako nakapag-puta nung gabing yun dahil ikaw nagka-lagnat, yung tatay mo high blood.

Hindi kita masyadong nakakausap dahil yamot ako sa inyong dalawa. Kaya dalawang araw bago ko nalamang damit ko na lang ang nasa cabinet. Wala na din ang mga bag mong puro voodoo dolls. Hindi kita namalayan. At nalungkot ako dun.

Out of service ang telepono mo. Hindi ko pa alam kung pumapasok ka. Nangako ako sayo ng cellphone o skateboard ( kung ano sa dalawa ang mas mura) kapag wala kang bagsak. Kung tutuusin, mas matalino ka sakin pero dahil pasaway ka, suki ka ng summer classes.

Hindi ko alam kung kelan ka uuwi o kung uuwi ka pa nga ba. Maski mas tahimik ang bahay kapag wala ka, mas gusto kong nandito ka. Alam ko, hindi ako ang tipo ng kuyang hinahanap mo. Pero peksman, hindi ako nagsisi na naging kapatid kita.

Kung nasan ka man, bumalik ka na.

Pwede mo ng i-install ang latest version ng DOTA sa laptop ko. Hindi na ko magagalit.

Pramis.


*Si at para kay Juan Julius


**12/08/09
Umuwi na sa bahay si Eboy. Ilang araw din syang namundok sa taniman nila tito sa Montalban. Ako naman ang kailangang lumayas. Ginagawa ang bahay at hindi ako nakakatulog kapag uwi ko sa tanghali.

Kay Nena na namamalo kapag hindi ako natutulog ng tanghali nung bata pa ako. Sa kanya na masarap magluto. Sa kanya na hindi kumakain ng hindi nya luto pero kapag nakakakita ng pansit palabok ay nakakalimutan ang binitawang prinsipyo. Sa kanya na nagpalaki sa akin at nagpumilit na i-enroll ako sa kinder school maski kalagitnaan na ng taon.

Kay Nena na paulit-ulit ang sinasabi. Sa kanya na naniniwalang hamog ang dahilan ng pagkakasipon ko. Sa kanya na tatlong oras kung maligo.

Kay Nena na naniniwala sa mga kaluluwang langaw at hindi takot sa mga lumilipad na ipis.. Sa kanya na ubod ng kuripot pero mahilig sa choknat. Sa kanya na nagbubukas ng gate ng bahay namin maski disoras ng gabi at hindi man lang ako naamoy na lasing. At kay Nena na hanggang ngayon, kaharutan ko pa din pagdating sa panonoood ng Spongebob.

Maligayang kaarawan , Amma. Antanda mo na, peyborit mo pa din si Squidward. Date tayo sa swelday ko. :D



NB.
Amma is an Ilocano term for grandmother. Amma Nena is now 78. She refuses to have a cake with candles on her birthday. So we made a graham cake instead.

I. Nung Linggo. Nagyaya si Bro. Jenny sa Bonfire. Andun din si Ken, kapwa kick-out, si Bros. Ryan at Irvin. Di ko alam kung anong relasyon meron ngayon ang mga tao. Basta ang alam ko, that was an enlightening night. Naliwanagan din ako ng konte. Dahil yata sa singer na kumanta ng "Ironic" ni Alanis...ganun nga ata ang buhay, sobrang ironic...


II. Outing ng tropa sa skul. Khewl! Ahehe na-miss ko sila...si Mr. Sembillo maski kelan talaga pasaway.Siguro gumulong yun pauwi sa sobrang katakawan sa alak. Maganda yung resort...tuwang-tuwa kami ni Nato sa "bumubugang" pagong. Nalunod pagdaus-dos sa slide sila Ryan at Dado...Yes, mas madami akong pogi points sa kanila nung hapong yon.


Nagstay kami sa Kampo Karingal...kila Adam. Enjoy. Maski kami ay mga alipin at mga naghihirap dahil sa kakapusan ng pera. Next stop sa May (hopefully: Zambales...sa rest house nila Nato)


III. Family swimming kasama ang pamilya ng bf ni ate sa clubhouse. Ahehehe di ako makapaniwala, magkakaharap kami nila Mama, Papa, Ate, Jessa, Julius na uminom ng San Mig... ayos na sana ang moment pero nangingitim na sila Hana at Habi...kailangang pwersahing iahon.




*Natutunan: Maraming nangyayari talaga kapag umuupo ka at naghihintay sa katahimikan. Di mo namamalayan, bigla mo na lamang maririnig ang mga salita at boses na kakalinga sa yo...


Totoo. Napatunayan ko.