The world will keep spinning, but pretty soon it will whack you on the head.

I can't say this week was anywhere near good. Sure, I was able to coax a laugh out of myself once in a while, but never has my smile been less genuine. For a moment the world was a black hole...a never-ending negative force that would continually suck you into its intense vortex. Even my own words choke me. Nothing has ever been this confusing.

And yet, to say it was a catastrophe would be an exaggeration. Once in a while, a voice in my head would remind me, "Girl, here you are overreacting again when you could be having the time of your life." I'd push that voice away, too lazy to even consider the possibility of any relief.

I wasn't the only one being sucked into the black hole though. Many companions were in their own dark bubble, engulfed in heavy metal music and the belief that there was no hope. Back at school it almost seemed like a trend to actually feel bad. Everywhere--and I mean this literally--you would see somebody crying over the loss of something, doing nothing, the chaos of everything.

The drama did not end there. Even at home, pages of unspoken words would explode in everyone's faces, and there could be no worse time. I couldn't understand myself either. I had no reason to be this sad, things weren't as bad for me as it were for some people I know. But when it hits you, it hits you. You can't help but give in.

Being the so-called 'sage' in the group, I am often randomly dragged by the arm into corners of the classroom, hearing people say, "Hey, he's having a hard time, comfort him." I do the best I can, but honestly, I don't have a clue how to make people feel better. It seems so easy to solve when you're just an onlooker, but when you come face-to-face with the problem itself, it's only then that you realize...it's not as pie as it looks.

Luckily though, some people find my advice quite comforting, and that's all I need it to be.

I have a hard time explaining it to others. Heck, I can't even explain it to myself. Maybe it's time I step back and truly think about what happened to this "path" I was supposed to be taking, and why it all of a sudden swerve into remote corners of my moral compass.

Then I stumble upon this video on YouTube.

I fell off my chair.

Ikaw, na hindi ko namalayan.

Maski ang bahay niya sa Pet Society, hango sa bahay niya doon sa Quezon. Hindi niya nilagay ang tissue holder sa tabi ng bath tub dahil alam niyang mababasa ito. Ang kanyang mga credit card, naka-arrange sa kulay ng bahaghari sa kanyang wallet. R-O-Y-G-B-I-V. May bilang ang bawat kilo ng bigas na kinakain niya buwan-buwan, at hindi siya iinom ng kape kung hindi ito Starbucks.


Ilang linggo ko na rin siyang pinagmamasdan, at hanggang ngayon ay hindi ko magawang lumapit sa kanya. Parang may invisible forcefield na humihila sa akin palayo sa kanya.


Biglaan, habang nakatalikod ako maririnig ko ang kanyang boses ay biglang tataas. Lilingon ako, na parang ako ang pinagtawanan. Hindi niya ako kilala. Eh ayaw ko naman magpakilala. Ano ba problema ko? Sasabihin ba naman ng ate kong nangingialam sa inbox ng cellphone ko, bakit walang nagtetext sa iyong babae? Habangbuhay ka na lang ba mag-iisa? Nako, mag ti-25 ka na, wala ka pang girlfriend! Sabay magtatakang titingin sa akin.


Siguro takot lang ako, ayaw kong aminin na hindi ko mahahanap ang tapang sa sarili. Ngayon ko lang naramdaman ang ganitong takot. Pero takot saan? Balita ko, hindi naman yata siya nangangagat. Mabait siya, madaling kausap at patawa. Ano ba ang kinatatakutan ko?


Araw-araw, kapag 2:30 ng hapon, makikita ko siyang nakaupo sa isang silid sa Starbucks, madalas ay maraming kasama, naka-white t-shirt at pants na sa sobrang haba, "wishwish" ang tunog kapag pumaparada siya sa sahig. Inaabangan ko ang malakas mong tawa na parang Surround-Sound na umiindayog sa aking isipan. Ni hindi ko pa alam ang iyong pangalan.


Lapitan mo na siya, susog ng aking mga kaibigan. Kung hindi ay pagsisisihan mo. Hindi na ako maka-3 point shot sa kakaisip sa kanya. Pero sa sobrang bigo ko...sa nakaraan, sa dumaan...nababalot ako sa takot kapag nasa iisang kuwarto lang kami. Nakailang girlfriend na rin ako. Pero ngayon lang natamaan ng ganito.


Kaya naisip ko na kailangan ko na talaga siyang kausapin. Kung mapupunta siya sa iba ay lalo ko lang pagsisisihan. Bukas ay lalapitan ko siya.

*****

Nagtaka ako kung bakit wala siyang kasama. Hindi na rin siya naka-white T-shirt. Suot niya isang berde na bestida, pulang tsinelas at walang dalang bag. Hawak lang niya ang isang pirasong papel na luma na kung titingnan. Pula ang kanyang mga mata at nawalan ng kulay ang kanyang labi.

Ganito pa man ay gusto ko pa rin siyang halikan.

Sa di ko inasahan, bigla siyang napangiti noong tawirin ko ang distansyang nakapagitan sa amin. Mas maganda siya kapag katabi ko.


Amanda...


Nag-usap kami ng mga bagay na wala namang kwenta. Napapatulala ako minsan sa kislap ng kanyang mata. Ayaw ko nang alisin ang atensyon ko sa kanya sa takot na bigla siyang maglaho. Maingay man sa Starbucks ay wala na akong marinig. Kundi ang boses niyang parang anghel.


Mahaba ang usapan namin. Hindi na namin namalayan ang oras. Paglabas ko doon ay alas siyete na pala ng gabi, at limang oras na kaming nag-uusap. Agad ay sabik ko na siyang makita muli.

*****

"America? Anong America?"


"Kailangan mag-ipon ng Papay mo, medyo gipit tayo dun sa simula, pero kakayanin din." sabi ng aking ina.


"Magtatrabaho ako dito! Ayokong umalis," sigaw ko, sabay hampas sa mesa.



"Walang pag-asa dito sa Pilipinas, anak. Gustuhin mo man mag-doktor ay mababa ang sweldo. Doon sa Amerika, dolyares ang kita mo. Ayaw mo nun?"
"Dito na lang tayo." Hindi ko na magawang tingnan ang ina.


Iyon na lang ang gagawin ko. Yayakapin ko siya. Isang saglit, na para walang hanggan.


Pagdating ko sa Starbucks kinabukasan, wala siya. Tinakbo ko ang buong coffeeshop, umaasang nasa CR lang siya, o andoon sa 2nd floor, pero wala din. Naghintay ako ng ilang oras para huli siyang makita. Wala ng 1% na pagkakataon na magkasalubong kami sa Greenbelt balang araw, o kahit man magkita sa isang birthday party na walang kwenta. Kung nandoon na siya sa Amerika ay hindi na mangyayari iyon. Kailangan ko siyang makita.


Magpakita ka naman.


Nagising ako sa isang kamay na niyuyugyog ang aking balikat. Sir, magsasarado na po kami, alis na po kayo. Ilang segundo ang lumipas bago narehistro ng utak ko. Hindi siya dumating. At kung dumating man siya ay tulog ako.


Kamot-ulo akong lumabas sa coffeeshop. Wala na akong magawa. Isang araw, kausap ko siya, ngayon, hindi ko na makikita muli.


Sa unang araw pa lang ay dapat nilapitan ko na siya.

Marikina (Part I)

"How many times have I told you to keep the money where it won't get lost? Sebastian, you will never learn, you will grow old tanga and tarantado like your Lolo Epoy!" sigaw ng kanyang madrasta, na kaninang umaga pa mainit ang ulo. Nawala niya ang pambayad ng tubig at ngayon ay mapuputulan na sila.

Muli ay nagawa niyang magsinungaling. Tinaya na naman niya ang isang daang piso sa baraha, at natalo. Kahit ilang beses na mangyari pa iyon ay hindi siya titiligil hanggang makuha niya ang limanlibong pisong papremyo. Pwede niya itong gamitin para bumili ng regalo para sa kanyang sakiting ina. Nanay, isip niya. Pangako, babalikan kita. Iiwanan ko sila Papa at pupunta tayo sa Saudi. Doon ako magtatrabaho. Di ka na kailangan maghirap. Ako na ang bahala.

"Where is the money?"

"Ma...nawala." Hindi niya magawang tumingin sa kanya. Narinig na niya ang kidlat sa labas.

"You will explain this to your Papa. I will not involve myself in this. Peste ka! Mapuputulan tayo ng tubig!"

Wala na siyang masabi. Kapag nagsalita ay lalong iinit ang ulo nito, kaya pinili na lang niyang lunukin ang ipinagmamalaki. Wala siyang kwenta sa mundo. Kapag pumanaw siya ay wala namang magbabago. Hindi siya makahinga ng maayos sa sariling bahay. Binabalewala ng sariling ama.

Malakas ang ulan sa labas. Alam niya na may darating na bagyo. Napanood niya ito sa TV ng kapitbahay. Papatayin na naman siya dahil di niya nakuha ang mga sinampay. Basa na lahat ng nilabhan niyang damit kahapon. Hindi na importante.

Maikukumpara sa isang ibon na nawalan ng anak, sumugod ang kanyang madrasta, dala-dala ang isang bakal na madalas nang nagagamit. Ipinalo ang braso't likod ni Juan na tuluyan nang nanghihina. Namumula. Mas gustuhin man niyang matamaan na lang ng kidlat ay wala na siyang magawa. Kundi tiisin ang sakit. Sanay na siya. Iba ang pinagdaanan ng kanyang ina. Mas masaklap pa ang sinapit nito. Ito ang nagbigay sa kanya ng lakas ng loob na kurutin ang madrasta.

Nang naramdaman ng Doña ang sakit, hinila nito si Juan sa kuwarto niya. Sinara ang pinto at walang balak na palabasin ito. Kapag lumayas ay magtataka ang mga kapitbahay. Mabuti pa na mamatay na lang sa gutom. Disgrasya.

Sa loob ng kuwarto, naalala ni Juan na may nakita siyang lubid sa ilalim ng kanyang kama noong nakaraang gabi. Makapal. Kayang ikutin sa kanyang leeg. O, ano, sabi niya sa sarili.

Pakamatay ka na.

*****

"Ilang beses ko nang sinabi sa iyo, wag na wag kang mag-boyfriend!" he shouts, harsher than he intended. Deceived by his own daughter. He couldn't accept it. She was only 14. She had yet to learn so many things. Why did she do this? I spoiled her rotten, what more could she possibly want?

"Dad, you always taught me to follow my heart! And that's what I'm doing!" she screams back. Her father was now denying the very words that came out of his own mouth. Now she didn't know what to believe. Warm tears flowed from her eyes. She didn't stop them.

The heavy rain outside was nothing compared to his booming voice. "At basta-basta ka na lang hindi papasok? Para makipagkita sa boyfriend mong walang kwenta!" He tried his best to lose his Australian accent.

She had a reason for cutting classes. It would be quite hard to believe, especially for a man like her father. He would never believe it. "That's it? You're not even giving him a chance?"

His eyebrows furrowed. She had never seen him this angry. Maybe her mother had, but not her. He had always loved her. He would even go so far as to starve himself for a day if he ever blew a fuse in her presence. Today was an exception. For his daughter to be spending time with the son of Carlos Valdemor was beyond him.

Somehow, Chiara had only seen the distance now. The invisible distance that had separated she and her dad for years. It was the death of her mother that had pained him so much...she wondered how she could have been so ignorant to notice it now.

"Any man by the name of Valdemor will never have my pity."

"You judge him by his name, Papa! Can't you see beyond that? He is nothing like his father..."

"Antonio is no different," he said flatly.

"That does not mean we can't be together! Just because his father happens to be your worst enemy doesn't mean I can't be with Anthony. We had nothing to do with what happened!" Her voice broke twice. She rubbed her face. It was too late to hold back any tears.

"I don't want you anywhere near Antonio Valdemor. Not an inch. Or you will be sent back to the province, where I should have kept you in the first place."

"I will never give up Anthony. No matter what you say, Papa." She tried to keep her voice from shaking.

"Not another word. Tomorrow I will have your Tita Beth bring you to the province. For sure you will be no trouble."

Chiara wanted to yell, but she knew that would do her no good. She made her way upstairs, defenseless, vulnerable. She could never come back to Anthony. They would keep her away from him. And though her heart ached, there was nothing more to do.

She looked out her window. The sky was gray. It seemed the world was condemning her for following her heart. And so she cried one last time and thought to herself.

Now would be a good time to jump.

[to be continued]

abot-langit.

I saw stars...not the kind you saw sparkling idly by the moon. Apt evidence that I have had a long day. Clearly, there must have been a meeting in the heavens (rather, in hell) that all elements would join forces to ruin me. And they were successful. I was more than willing to just disappear--and exclude myself from the road everyone was taking. Possibly, it was not for me.

I retreat to the one place I have not been in years. Where innocence is not condemned and laughter is encouraged, not tolerated. Where falling flat on your face does not have to be a humiliation. Where your soul is free to dance.

The kid's playground.

To my dismay, I had visited at an ungodly hour, when children were home already in front of the TV. All had gone but one little boy.

He amused himself by going down the slide, stumbling, laughing at himself and then going down again. Never tiring of doing the same things over and over. The wind blew against my face, yet the boy had no fear, clutching volumes of sand in his hands. A few grains made their way into his eyes but there was no stopping him. He was determined to have his fun.

I couldn't help it. I had to know his name.

"What's his name?" I said loudly to myself, knowing that would get his attention.

The boy stopped in his tracks and smiled. "Ken-shin."

"Ken-shin with an N!" he continues, after I forget to reply.

From the top of my head I began to dig into his likes and dislikes. He likes mangoes and sizzling sisig. He's six years old, but hasn't been to school yet. Apparently he likes Taylor Swift.

Our conversation would switch from English to Tagalog, depending on what we were talking about. All he had to do was say "Okay, back to English," and we would switch from "us" to "tayo". I wanted to pick apart his brain and see if he had a bigger sense of humor than myself.

All of a sudden I thought of asking him who his crush was. I tapped him on the shoulder so he'd turn around and face me. "You have a crush?" I say, unable to stifle a smile.

Puzzled, he raised one small eyebrow. "Ate Chandra, what is a crush?"

Just then I realized that my insolence had corrupted a little boy. "Uhm...you'll know when you're 10. Okay? Don't ask about it."

"I want to know!"

"Okay, okay...well. It's when you like someone."

"But I like everybody. Does that make everybody my crush?"

I laugh. This boy will make it to the books. It was too hard to define--and I had to narrow my own vocabulary for his sake. "No, but it's when you like someone so much that you want to be with that person all the time. And even if she isn't perfect...you feel like she is."

"Ha? Okay. Basta, if I have a crush I will call you! And you tell me."

His innocence fascinated me. Looking into his eyes seemed surreal--he could learn so much more. As he wrote on the sand with his little finger, I crouched down next to him and drew a heart.

To my astonishment he started talking about his best friend. "4 years old siya, pero kasingtangkad ko lang. Ang liit ko kasi."

I saw myself in him. "Ako pinakamaliit sa class."

"Oh? Ako rin eh! May kilala kang kaibigan na kasingtangkad mo?"

"Madami. Pero may nakilala ka na bang mas matangkad sa iyo?"

"Wow!" He jumped. "Mas matangkad sa akin? Wala pa!"

"Ubod ng tangkad...like this." I reached my hand up one foot above me. And I knew exactly who I was talking about. To my own surprise I began rattling the tiniest details about you, more than enough to bore him. Even in the face of strangers I could not get away from you.

"Abot langit ba siya, Ate?"

"Oo. Abot langit sa puso ko."

bend for me.

Your words were cold. I would freeze if I stayed any longer. Such a stark contrast to who you were only hours ago--and as the truth settles in, I find it easier to accept. The answer was there all along. I just never grasped it until now.

There's no point in sticking around when you know it's over, done for. You're left for dead. Some waves you just can't withstand. You and I are different. We shouldn't bother trying to put this back together. Bend for me, will you? This is falling apart as we know it.

Who are you? The frown across your mouth, the creases on your forehead, the grip in your fists. This is not you. At least, not the you I used to know. I rehash our conversations and I find myself in a mess of absolutely nothing. Nothing noteworthy. It was all a lie.

I fell in love with a memory. All this time I've been aching to bring back what has already passed...and when it did, I bit off more than I could chew. That blinded me from the truth--that those memories can never be relived. My expectations clouded the fact that just like everyone else, you're not perfect.

And with that to your advantage, you disappoint me--over and over until I know I have waited.

Waited.

Waited.

Waited...

And came to nothing.

nanginginig.

Buhay pa rin sa aking puso ang mga pangakong binitiwan mo.

Gusto ko na mawalay ka sa isipan ko ngunit nagpupumilit ka, ayaw mong umalis, nasanay ka na laging ikaw ang nasa guni-guni. Madalas ay napapatulala ako bigla-biglaan sa gitna ng araw. Simula noong nakilala kita ay walang isang araw na hindi kita naaalala.

Maninibago kaya ako kapag mawala ka? Sa bagay, ilang beses ka na ring lumayo. Kinaya ko naman, at tinatanong ko ang sarili kung paano ko nagawang tapusin ang isang araw na hindi ka kapiling. Aalis ka na rin, at naghahanda na nga akong tiisin ang apat na taon habang malayo ka, hinahabol ang iyong pangarap, kalimutan ako. Mag-ingat ka. Wag na wag kang magpupuyat kasi masama iyan sa iyo. Alam ko naman na mahilig kang matulog ng hatinggabi pero kailangan mong matulog para tumangkad lalo.

Balang-araw ay umaasa akong magkasalubong tayo, baka sa isang kalye o sa Megamall o sa France. Sinabi mo dati na gusto mong tumira tayo doon at magpakasal sa harap ng Eiffel Tower. Isang musmos na pangarap na pinagtatawanan ko sabay napapaiyak kapag naalala ko. Para namang magkakasama tayo hanggang doon. Tanga naman ako, umasa. Bitin ang mga yakap mo, hindi abot-mata ang ngiti. Nagbago ka na nga.

Hindi mo ba kayang tumingin sa likuran mo at hawakan ang kamay kong nanginginig sa lamig? Kaya siguro malakas ang loob kong aminin ito dahil hindi ka na yata babalik. Ang atensyon mo ay palaging inaagaw ng ibang taong makikita mo naman araw-araw. Eh ako? Bihira na lang tayo nag-uusap. Di magtatagal ay mawala na ang litrato ng mukha mo na kasalukuyan naka-plaster sa isip ko.

Kagabi pa maingay ang puso ko, walang sinisigaw kundi ang pangalan mo. Buhayin mo ito, kulayan mo at bigyan mo ng pag-asa. Huwag mo akong kalimutan, iyon na lang ang hahawakan ko. Hindi ko na kailangang sabihin mahal pa rin kita.

Abutin mo ang iyong pinapangarap. Dito lang ako sa tabi-tabi at mapapangiti na nakikita kang masaya. Hay nako, pagbigyan mo na ako. Hayaan mo akong maging emo kahit ngayon na lang.

Tutal ay nasa labas na ang taxi, paalis ka na. Iwanan mo na ako.

jabbawockeez: the sardines experience

Stuck in traffic, my mother began to talk about Sharon Cuneta's chronic addiction to milkshakes.

"Si Sharon, when I see her commercials or her scenes in movies, may laging naka-standby na shake sa tabi. She always has three shakes there. And the glasses are tall pa. No wonder she's fat..."

Her rant is drowned out by the music blasting from my earphones. It's 10 in the morning. Can't we save this for later?

Just then, a little boy knocks on the driver's side windshield, asking for some change. He was about 5 years old, wearing only a torn, faded t-shirt and no slippers. My mother asks me for some coins, rolls down her window, hands them to the boy and smiles.

"Uwi ka na, ha?"

"Yes, ma'am!" the boy happily replies, and runs off.

Who knew? The lady has a heart.

*****

The Philippine population is increasing at such a rapid pace that if you happened to find yourself in the middle of Alabang Town Center today, you would come out freshly canned, labeled, and ready to be stacked on a supermarket shelf.

I was a victim of Jabbawockeez.

From the very moment I came into the mall, I saw no trace of anyone over 30 years old. Youngsters, little girls, 20-somethings flocked the place, eager to see the dance group that had bagged the winner's title on America's Best Dance Crew. Really, I only came there to marvel at the fantastic way they could move their bodies like they were Jell-O based. People who know me are aware of my lack of skills in dancing.

My mother was my sole companion in raving about what I now call "the Jabba Mob". I got my fill of complaints from her, constantly grumbling about smokers or unpleasant human odors. Group messages raving about the Mob began flooding in.

A classmate said, "Only six people in my phonebook aren't watching Jabba...out of 200."

The noise got worse each minute. Screams emanated from every corner of the mall, getting louder each time the announcer welcomed the audience to the show. My mom and I decide to take a seat in Yellow Cab. I tell you, we come from Teriyaki Boy, KFC and Starbucks, and still, my mom wants to eat.

Chairs were getting raptured. Yellow Cab was almost devoid of chairs when we got there, thanks very much to the teenagers who took them away so they could stand on them. Kids in Jabba t-shirts would stand on the white poles and the railings from the third and fourth floor, like "monkeys", as my mother had said. Cue screams. That place was a jungle.

A frozen jungle, that is. Nobody would move from where they were standing, wanting to get a good view of the breakdancers. There was no hope in trying to get to the front. Since 1 in the afternoon, the Mob had already set up its headquarters.

When we couldn't stand it anymore, we had no choice but to brave the Mob. There was no other way to get to the car and home without going through them first. So I hold my breath and begin to push and shove.

It was unbearable--you could hardly move, much less breathe. I would be willing to bet a hundred bucks on the sad truth that someone would faint. Odors, odors. This is why my mother hates concerts.

In the midst of my agonizing experience, though, I had overheard many conversations. Words were getting thicker but I was able to pick up a few.

A Korean boy in blue runs between me and my mom, gasping for breath. His accent is hilarious. He manages to blurt out a hurried "Daming tao. Ang init!"

Boy 1: Daming tao eh. Di na natin kayang manood.

Boy 2: Ay! Alam ko na. Sakay na lang tayo sa escalator paulit-ulit.

Another boy tries to break the communication barriers with an American friend.

"Yeah, I came here at 10 in morning, cause I know that there will be a many people here, and I stay at Starbucks while waiting. When I come back, there is a many people here already and I cannot watched it anymore. I will going home."

Ditto. I will going home.

Sardines, yes?