Angel from Hell…(*-*)

Can somebody tell me if Bread Talk’s floss has sort of addictive content?

Guess what, their “floss series”, - (cheese floss, hot chick and fire floss) replaced my beef shawarma cravings, and no doubt that I drop at Breadtalk every time my feet lead me in malls.

Say, I’ll attend mass at Greenbelt chapel, right after or even before the mass, my system will drag me straight to Breadtalk, Glorietta 4  to buy 3 or 4 pieces. Then, if I need to go home for weekends, I’ll surely head on to BreadTalk Trinoma or North Edsa branches to satisfy my “floss obsession”. Then if I know that one of my room mates will be in any single mall with Breadtalk franchise, I’ll surely won’t fail texting my request for floss pasalubong or pabili.

I’m not really a “bread fan” but these Breadtalk flosses, argggh…., I can’t resist the taste. I asked a baker once and found that these floss thingy are simply made of bread (of course, bread…)  stuffed with fluffy dry shredded pork and mildly sweet hot sauce.

I remember the first time I ate floss, I was a bit turned-off by the appearance, but after digging into it, gosh, I really liked it, that I asked back for another piece. Oh, I know, this is overreacting for a bread, but honestly, the past months, it was really hard for me to be satisfied with the food I eat. Lots of consideration ranging from calorie content, nutritional value, price, taste and all other excuses. But of course, it’s not that I want floss everyday, it’s just that I crave for this thing, maybe at least twice a week, and just wanted to share. Also a piece of me wanted to know, if there’s really secret ingredient or specific addictive content as I mentioned, that makes Breadtalk floss satisfying. The idea is the same with the artificial sweeteners in sodas, the MSG in chips and crackers, the endorphin triggers in cakes and chocolates, or the soft spot in a man or woman’s heart, haha! (connection?)

I don’t expect you to agree but as we all know, we all have our set of unique taste buds, and just wanna share that floss simply got me. Hope other bread stores can pirate this type of bread ’cause if they are to analyze how things are in Breadtalk stores, their flosses are simply the “store stars” — being bought and patronized by people.

Anyway, somehow it feels good to be addicted to something, of course, in my case, minus the nutritionist’s opinion.

I’m also addicted to someone, but, sadly, like floss, still up to now, I don’t know what’s his addictive content,  or if he’s for my health’s betterment or just a fake supplement.

I positively miss him, and this craving compelled me to generate my passport and plane ticket for me to have a taste again of what is it like to have him near me.

Serious mush…. haaaay…

Got nothing much to be busy with in the office, so bear with
this survey I reluctantly answered to let time find its league on me while
doing the Indian sit in front of the PC.

three names you go by:
1. Liezl
2. Zey
3. Gutz (Gutzy)

three things you like about yourself:
1. I can express what’s on my mind
2. I can do silly things and don’t get easily affected by
others’ comments
3. I laugh easily

three things you don’t like about yourself:
1. My badmouthing/ foul words
2. Don’t have a clear picture of what to do in my life
3. Get easily swayed in hot debates

three parts of your heritage:
1. Capampangan (paternal and maternal side)
2. Bulakenya (Mother side)
3. Spanish? (Gutierrez/dela Cruz)

three things that scare you:
1. reptiles/worms
2. being ignored
3. death in the family

three things you are wearing right now:
1. pants
2. jacket
3. yellow earrings

three new things you want to try in the next twelve months:
1. go out of the country/or just out of Luzon
2. culinary lessons
3. riding a hot air baloon

three things you want in a relationship:
1. free/loose
2. humor
3. chemistry

three physical things about the opposite sex that appeal to you:
1. the hair - it should be wavy and shoulder length yet still looks clean
2. hot lips! (haha!)
3. needs to be taller than me

three of your favorite hobbies:
1. nature tripping (beach/sunset/sunrise, rain)
2. movie/dvd marathon
3. music tripping

three things you want to do really badly right now:
1. take enough sleep
2. take a leave
3. eat HEALTHY food

three careers you’re considering:
1. writer/journalist
2. professor
3. chef

three places you want to go on vacation:
1. Palawan
2. Paris
3. Batanes

three kid’s names:
1. Amiel
2. Zey
3. Gutzilita/Gutzilito

three things you want to do before you die:
1. write novels
2. travel
3. find something (someone?) worth dying for

three ways I am stereotypically a boy:
1. I love bikes and scooters
2. I have an untidy closet
3. I throw things when I’m pissed

three ways I am stereotypically a girl:
1. I waste time choosing clothes to wear
2. shopping is… a form of life
3. I talk a lot… as in “a lot”

***

My holy banana heart is doing fine… just fine. I don’t wanna
expand on my love life issue cause I’m pickle-minded as to my acceptance of its
state – today I feel like I’m doing the right thing, the next day it seems like
that I’m just in an existentialist state, then I dunno… really dunno. Pusong
ina naman talaga!

***

BTW, congratulations to my classmates behind Kanto zine, I
always feel that they belong to the league of the most wonderful earthlings on
this planet. Their choice of words and ideas simply amaze the pop angle in me.
It’s the first time Kanto zine was formally featured after its launch last
year. http://pinoycentric.com/2007/09/25/kanto-pinoy-pop-culture-in-photocopied-paper/.

I have never expected myself to burst into tears during my
lola’s interment. Our relationship is no more than ordinary, I was not the
favorite granddaughter, I never grew within her reach. Holidays and occasional
visits are the only blessing times I laid my forehead into her hands, she’s the
mother of my father who had left our home when I was nine and permanently left
the immortal world when I was thirteen, she’s my lola, I’m one of her seeds on
earth – no more, no less.

But the moment I saw her laying cadaver, tears
uncontrollably pour on my face. Much when I have read my given name and the
first names of my paternal relatives on her coffin’s cover.

My uncle mentioned that my lola was able to remember (an
hour before she died) that it’s my birthday the next day. But what struck me among
her last words is when she said, “Palaguan
yu ku, sunduan na kung tatang yu, munta kami Isabela,”(“Makeover me, your dad will fetch me, we’re going to Isabela”).
Ahhhh…. Such words conjured creepiness on me, aside from the fact that the
“dad” she is mentioning is my Ingkong (Lolo) Remy, who died seven years ago! The
idea of going to Isabela struck me. If you are to trace their lifetime, my
Ingkong Remy spent a lot of time in that province to sustain their livelihood
of shepherding and breeding itik (local ducks). Maybe, there’s this longing for my lola in the past to join her
husband in the north instead of being left in Tarlac, or maybe Isabela is their
date sanctuary/love nest (whatever you wanna call it). Ayayay… it’s also mushy,
after all, my Ingkong remained her soft spot despite the hearsays that they
used to be a nagging couple when they’re still alive.

I wonder if the same thing will happen to me, prior the time
for me to be a freezing cadaver. I mean, what are my last words? What are the
things I would long to do or regret that I failed to do? Who are the persons
I’ll wish would join me to eternal life (if there is such)?………………
.. Or maybe I’ll just die in an instant, wherein no more time for me to speak
words of intentions and regrets. Do you think it’s better that way? Huh?

Anyway, my paternal clan Triumvirate (Lola Libring, Ingkong
Remy, and Tatang), who serve as main links for me to be close to my 1^st
degree father side relatives, had already bid their goodbyes to earth. For
sure, things will change between me and my paternal cousins – fewer reunions
and gatherings, farther distances, less talks and updates. But then, I’m still
hoping against hope that won’t happen. After all, blood counts, we are of the
same roots.

Waaaah! Another minus in the family… whenever there’s a
death of a love one or someone I know, in the past two years I never failed to
remember Fr. Gerard Manley Hopkin’s Spring and
Fall: To a Young Child. (Thanks to Prof. Hornedo, my literary
professor). The poem inculcated in me the idea that when people close to us die
- we do not mourn for them, rather, we mourn for ourselves - we feel sorry for
the things we cannot anymore employ because of their physical absence.

With regards to the death of my Lola and my relation to her,
I must admit that she’s not my ideal granny, much that if she were to be asked,
I’m sure she’ll answer that I’m not also her ideal granddaughter… but I shall
take missing her positively…

It’s a saddening news,
our batch mate Bryner Dungo (of IV-St. Raphael) got into a motor accident last
weekend. Based from hearsays, he is drunk when the accident happened.
Sumemplang daw tapos tumama ang ulo sa paso …… he’s now “brain dead”… allegedly
machine na lang daw ang bumubuhay sa kanya…

Don’t know exactly the
veracity of what really happened to Bryner. I just got the message from Beah
(Bautista) via SMS, but surely, it is during this time that he badly needs our
prayers. He is such a good folk, way back in our Saint Mary’s’ years… Moreover,
if the accident didn’t happen, he’s supposed to start his working experience
with Accenture next week after gloriously passing the Engineering Board Exam.

Let’s pray for the neurological
recovery of a friend who once shared our Marian life…. 

Matagal ko rin di na-update ang blog na ‘to. Peste. Wala rin
naman kasing kwenta yung isusulat ko, puro may grammar inconsistency pa. Trying
hard kasi mag-English, kamote at olats naman!

Puta. May sore eyes si Tintilita, takot akong mahawa.
Di ko makakalimutan nung high school nung dinapuan ako ng anak ng ‘takteng sore
eye virus, paggising ko, akala ko bulag na ‘ko at hebigat ang pakiramdam ng mga
mata ko, yun pala sandamukal na muta ang nagkumpulan sa mata kong nagbabaga sa
pula. (Tintin, kung nababasa mo ito, ‘wag ka munang babalik sa apartment habang buhay pa yang mga viruses d’yan sa tantalizing eyes mo).

Nga pala, umalis na si Tonz papuntang Davao last Saturday,
nami-miss ko na ang kamatis na yun. Si Tonz (Faith Tonio) ang isa sa mga
nagtiyagang makasikuhan at makabatukan ko nung college — ka-trio (with Timpug)
sa thesis, ka-B1-B2, kakopyahan, kakampi sa pang-aasar kay Tintin, ka-apiran,
etc. Tinagurian naming siyang kamatis dahil di na niya kailangang mag-apply ng
blush-on sa kutis niyang parang kamatis. Haha! Nakaka-chat ko naman siya nitong
nakaraang araw, pero syempre iba pa rin yung nandito lang siya sa Metro Manila
na tipong kapag gusto namin ng panggulo sa malungkot na buhay, isa siya sa mga
rerespondeng kachokaran.

Nag-mini-reunion pala kami ng mga college classmates
last week, as usual, kina Vira na naman sa Marikina. Grabe ang tibay ko nun, may pasok
pa ‘ko kinabukasan at nagawa kong labanan ang tawag ng demonyong alkohol at ang
pambubuyo ni Polines na tumungga raw ako kahit konti lang. Utot niya! May
working ethics ‘to, man.

Napansin ko rin na majority sa ‘min, naglobohan ang body statistics, kasama ako. With that I conclude na iba ang bangis ng eskwelahan sa pagpapa-shrink ng mga estudyante. Or pwede rin namang dahil dinadaan namin sa lamon ang stress na idinudulot ng corporate life. Leche!

In other news, medyo at ease na ‘ko sa trabaho.
Ambangis namin ng mga work colleagues ko, laging masaya dahil sa "kaweirdohan" ng isa’t isa. But I don’t wanna expand, mahirap na,
masyadong techie yung mga nasa office, baka ma-detech nila ang mga bagay-bagay
na di dapat inilalahad sa napakabulgar na outlet gaya ng blog.

Ayoko munang umuwi sa bahay namin. Nagpapa-miss pa ko
sa kanila (style). Kasi naman kapag umuuwi ako every weekends, parang wala lang
ako, di ako pinapansin ng mga tao sa bahay, para lang akong lababo na
dinadaan-daanan. (Lababo? Yuck!). Pero kapag di nila ko nakita ng more than a
month, yung nanay ko na yung tumatawag para itanong kung kailan ako uuwi, sabay
sabi ng, “Anak, anong gusto mong iluto ko pagdating mo?” Hahaha! Yun ang life!

www.keywordspy.com

My
elementary circle has this fad for ‘mini-reunion,’ sort of
“invading” a batch mate in time of either grief or joy, may it be
birthdays or burial of a relative.

Since
I’m one of the official KSP in the faction, I usually play the role
of an informant of where and who to “invade.” Add to that, I have
this thing for listing occasions and I’m such an usisera to
phenomena in others’ lives despite my schedule.

So
far, we have gone to lot of birthdays and graduations, doing the
undying ritual of drinking, video-singing, bullying, eating,
cheering, choking, joking and sleeping with our brains soaked in a
mixture of Napoleon, Eight o’clock juices, San Miguel, Empe, Gin,
GranMa and the immortal Red Horse.

But
life is not at all about beer, rum, wine, brandy and sterilized milk,
for in time of invasion of a folk’s wake, we resort to candies,
coffee, Boy Bawang and the interminable Rebisco Biscuits with all its
shapes, sizes and colors. Affix to that, we were entertained by card
tricks and games, not to mention the “killer-killer” stuff
making every game loser to admit a secret or else, suffer a
consequence.

Despite
the mourning mood in a burial, we relax ourselves by updating each
other with the episodes in the life of our absent classmates. The
conversations flow with lines like,

-“Si
ganito nga pala nasa Saipan na, yung bestfriend naman niya nasa
Dubai.”

-“Pucha,
pare, si ganyan nag-asawa na!”

-“Wala
ka, si ganire, tatlo na ang patukain!”

-
-“Ows? Tangna, may anak na sila, samantalang ako, nigriv pa rin!”

-Anong
nigriv?”

-“Reverse
ng virgin!!! Tanga ka?!”

If
you’re outside the circle, you’ll fuckingly admit that we’re
just a typical-crazy troupe drowning ourselves with insensible chat
and gossips. But life is like that, you can’t control what others
have to say or act. You can’t just simply discuss Orwell’s books
or Nietzsche’s philosophy in the middle of a crowd with different
member orientations. After all, Elementary is a Neverland where the
only concern is playing jack stones and eyeing a share to a
classmate’s baon. And the only way to entangle yourself with people
whom you have shared your childhood is to talk childhood, childish
and childlike stuff.

Anyways,
with all the silly invasions we had, I feel grateful to the group for
having the dedication to be part of my adult life.  I was the target
of the latest “invasion” — they unexpectedly came in the wake of
my baby cousin who died last weekend. My two-month-old cousin
Ronnarose, who I believed is now an angel, suffered from a disease
called sepsis multiple pulmonary mass, in lay term, she was
born with pustules in her lungs.  For more than a month, she was
confined at Philippine Childrens’ Medical Center (PCMC) and endured
at her young age the pain of medicines, dextrose, blood transplants,
vaccines and other dreaded hospital procedures. All throughout March
and first week of April, after work, I rushed straight to PCMC to
console my Tito Ronald and Tita Mylin, bringing them food, clothing
and some grocery items. There were times, I was tasked to watch over
the baby and in the middle of her pains, I talked to her as if the
little cherubim could understand me. I slightly grieved on her death…
slightly, because I can only pull the tears from her two months stay
here on earth… as many say, it’s the years and memories that
makes death painful. Moreover, there’s this point that if baby
Ronnarose will strive for her life for a longer time, my maternal
clan will lose financial savings and stability to hospital bills and
if ever she’ll make it, abnormalities will stick to her as side
effect of tons of medicine intake.

And
what has to be a lamenting ambiance during the wake of my cousin
turned to a jamboree when my grade school buddies turned to give
their condolences to me. I won’t forget what one of them answered
back when I said, “Oh, dumating kayo? Baby lang naman yung namatay
kong pinsan, hindi naman ganu’n kasakit sa family.” He replied,
“Darating talaga kami, kahit fetus pa yan!”

It
may be a joke or words of consolation yet I felt indebted.

Allow
me to take this space to thank my active “co-invaders

LOISA , THERINE,
DONATS ,
RONALD, MICHELLE,
EPOY, ARTHUR,
JOMEL, WILLIAM
, CAROL, BINGBING,
MAYT

(Itamu
ing mitagan king bungkus ning pamakiyabe…at masaya ku metung ku
kekayu…dacal a salamat karen gang lakaran, ayli, pikunan at
damayan…) 

"The most interesting thing about heart transplants is that one completely loses his own heart and be replaced with someone else’s yet still has the feelings for the same person he/she loves. This proves that love works in the minds of people and not in their hearts. Bottomline is, love is a state of mind. You’ll learn how to forget only if you try doing so…" -Dr. Burke, Grey’s Anatomy

(Just
this weekend, I was tasked to shipshape my room, away from the mess
brought by my mom’s decision in changing our vinyl floors into
tiled one. With that sweating act, I bumped through my tons of
“sentimental basuras,” and one of them, is my Marynette
yearbook in secondary school. I spent minutes laughing to the old
faces of people in my fucking high school life at Saint Mary’s
College (though if you’ll look at my pic there, you’ll also laugh
out to your lungs caused I look like an abiding-teen ready to enter a
religious convent). Anyways, what made the Marynette a mushy stuff,
aside from being a sanctuary of photos of friends and foes, is the
poem inside it, titled, “When Tomorrow Starts Without Me.”
The poem was dedicated to Ma. Isabelle “Mimi” Ramirez, our batch
mate who died days after our graduation. Mimi got the poem from the
Internet and sent it to our batch on Graduation Day (a much awaited
occasion that she missed attending due to her illness). Mimi and I
have never been classmates, though we knew each other by being
members to extra-curricular activities in school like the Glee Club,
Girl Scout and the Liturgy Alliance Club. Way back, everyone in our
batch admired Mimi, aside from being one of the glitters in the pilot
section; she also has a physical beauty and grace which cannot be
concealed by her chemo paraphernalia. I remembered how guys in our
section (St. Felicity) would count Mimi in as one of their crushes.
We grieved for her lost, she has so much to live for but then she
passed away on April 14, 2002 because of cancer. Here’s her simple
poem, excuse the grammar inconsistency. Some tears were shed by me
because of this poem, not really because of Mimi but for fear of
death…  fear of unavoidable and untimely death… pardon me for being sappy…)

When
Tomorrow Starts

Without
Me…

When tomorrow starts
without me

And I’m not there
to see,

If the sun should
rise and find your eyes

All filled with
tears for me;

I wish so much you
wouldn’t cry

The way you did
today,

While thinking of
the many things

We didn’t get to
say.

I know how much you
love me,

As much as I love
you,

And each time that
you think of me,

I know you’ll miss
me too;

But when tomorrow
starts without me,

Please try to
understand,

That an angel came
and called my name,

And took me by the
hand,

And said my place
was ready,

In heaven far above,

And that I’d have
to leave behind

All those I dearly
love.

But as I turned to
walk away,

A tear fell from my
eye

For all my life, I’d
always thought,

I didn’t want to
die.

I had so much to
live for,

So much left yet to
do,

It seemed almost
impossible

That I was leaving
you

I thought of all the
yesterdays,

The good ones and
the bad,

I thought of all the
love we shared,

And all the fun we
had

If I could relieve
yesterday,

Just even for a
while,

I’d say goodbye
and kiss you

And maybe see you
smile

But then I fully
realized,

That this could
never be,

For emptiness and
memories,

Would take the place
of me.

And when I thought
of worldly things,

I might miss come
tomorrow,

I thought of you,
and when I did,

My heart was filled
with sorrow.

But when I walked
through heaven’s gates,

I felt so much at
home.

When God looked down
and smiled at me,

From His great
golden throne.

He said, “This is
eternity,

And All I’ve
promised you,

Today, your life on
earth is past,

But here life starts
anew.

I promised no
tomorrow,

Not today will
always last,

And since each day’s
the same way

There’s no longing
for the past.

You have been so
faithful

So trusting and so
true,

Though there were
times

You did some things

You knew you
shouldn’t do.

But you have been
forgiven

And now at last
you’re free,

So won’t you come
and take my hand

And share your life
with me?”

So when tomorrow
starts without me,

Don’t think we’re
far apart,

For every time you
think of me,

I’m right there,
in your heart.

            A blank page was something I feared. For some, such page meant purity, flawlessness, perfection… but to me, it meant emptiness.

            People fill paper with doodles and sayings, if only to relieve themselves of the boredom of looking at a bare piece of paper or to give free rein to the rush of excitement to express themselves or stamp their own mark.

            When I graduated, I thought that I was done with writing essays and articles. I felt like I was bidding farewell to the academe. And yet, in order to understand the life changes around me, I have found myself again putting my thoughts on paper.

            Months after I left UST, I noticed that my schoolfriends and I going all out to prove ourselves somehow. Working in companies, pursuing graduate studies/law school or trying to live and work away from home — all was aimed at advancing somewhere in our lives. Some of us remained in touch, some fell apart and others carved out new identities.

  I guess it wasn’t so much that people feared the inevitable separation, the drifting apart after graduation. It was more like instinctively knowing what being separated meant. For despite the memories of shared torture over difficult projects and endless round of black coffee, people change. Life happens.

           It dawned on me when I sat across with a friend, eating french fries at a Jollibee outlet. After the initial exhilaration of meeting again and the usual race to update each other on what happened since we met the last time, there was a moment of pensive silence. It lasted a minute or merely six seconds… but it was there. I stared at the distance, then looked at my close friend and I realized that our lives are no longer as closely intertwined as they used to be. We talked of new friends a.k.a. officemates and funny anecdotes found their way into conversation. And then the discussion drifted to shared experiences, but even then I know that school life is just a thin thread that binds us to each other. Easy to break, yet easy to entangled in, if I allow it.

            At a certain point, I felt nostalgic and realized that I have missed so many things. Silence reigned as we both lost in thought.

            It used to be that I couldn’t wait for life to get started; I just wanted to get school over and done with. I just wanted to be free. Now, I wish I had more time to prepare a bit more for what I have to do or say.

            My head cleared and I found myself staring at the present. Before I knew it, the fries are all gone. Back to the “real world”. A term I hardly understood until now. I stared at my friend, we hugged, and I started to miss the company before even we turned our backs.

           I don’t know what I actually expected when I left college. Just for things to be different maybe. And they have been different – in more ways than one. I don’t know whether to be grateful or not. But I want to be honest. Perhaps filling this blog account page may serve as an outlet to express.