Notice

For reasons I don't want to expound on: THIS BLOG IS CLOSING!

WHOPPER! Part II

NOTE TO SELF: YOU HAVE FALLEN OUT OF LOVE.

If You Want Closure In Your Relationship, Start With Your Legs

LONDON - Good advice? Maybe. Oddest book title of 2007 — that's official.

"If You Want Closure in Your Relationship, Start With Your Legs" has won the Diagram Prize for the oddest title of the year, The Bookseller magazine announced Friday.

Big Boom, the apparently pseudonymous author, calls it a "self-help book, written by a man for the benefit of women."

It's a book, he writes, that is "raw, honest and about you," distilling "the sweat off my back, the wrinkles in my forehead from anger and thinking all the time."

The title triumphed in a public vote over runner-up "I Was Tortured by the Pygmy Love Queen" and the third-place finisher, "Cheese Problems Solved."

"The winner, 'If You Want Closure,' makes redundant an entire genre of self-help tomes," said Joel Rickett, deputy editor of The Bookseller. "So effective is the title that you don't even need to read the book itself."

The title joins a pantheon of past winner including "Weeds in a Changing World" (1999), "The Big Book of Lesbian Horse Stories" (2003); "Bombproof Your Horse" (2004); and "The Stray Shopping Carts of Eastern North America: A Guide to Field Identification" (2006). - Associated Press

I laughed when I saw this one today. I haven't really been laughing a lot lately.

Yep, girls, if you want to close a bad chapter in your life involving a jerk, keep those legs closed. Period. No need to buy or read the book. Use the money for other books. A shotgun would be nice, too.

I'm still trying very, very hard to figure out what "The Big Book of Lesbian Horse Stories" could be about.

Eng?

Bitterness and Lurkers

Apat-apat kayong naka-online sa pahinang ito sa mga oras na ito. Wala namang nag-iiwan ng komento. Puro kayo lurker. Peeping Tom. Busero. Ewan kung ano pa ang maitatawag na jologs. Hehe.

Medyo pikon ako ngayon kasi I was so hoping this girl and that guy would finally date. December pa yata sila naglalandian. Akala ko papunta na sa seryosohan. Biglang nagtatago ang lalaki ngayon, hindi naman NPA. Missing in action, hindi naman sundalo. Hindi rin naman witness sa ZTE.

In short, umurong ang bayag.

So, eto na. Dagdag siya sa listahan ng mga taong inaalalayan ko ngayon. Mahirap umalalay sa nasaktang babae. Ilang buwang iiyak at ilang buwang magdududa sa sariling kakayahan.

Putang ina kasi ng mga lalaking nagpapakita ng interes, tapos aatras. Puwede ba, sandamakmak kayong duwag!

(Hay. Sarap magmura pag walang kuwenta ang pinatutungkulan. Espasyo ko ito, walang kokontra. Puro rin lang naman kayo lurker, kaya okay lang. Harhar! Man, I'm so pissed.)

Medyo nangiti ako nang mahalungkat at mapakinggan ko ito kanina sa kotse papasok sa office. Tatlong beses kong inulit-ulit ito sa trapik.

Palitan lang ang gender, puwede na. Ipinahiram ko na rin ang CD ko sa kaibigan kong nagluluksa ang puso dahil sa putang inang mga lalaking walang kuwenta.

Hear me: Ang laki ng muscle niyo, di niyo man lang gamitin sa pag-protekta sa mga kababaihan.

"...and (s)he tore my feelings like I had none and ripped them away..."

Red talk over red wine

Traffic was bad and I was running late. I didn't expect NLEX to mirror how most of the population feels about the whole country: we wanna be outta here. Subic suddenly seemed as far as Pagudpud, the tip of Luzon, unreachable. And I was stewing under the heat of the midday sun, caught in traffic that moved an inch a minute.

It took me four more hours before I got there. With two hours to kill before the meeting with my sources, I thought it would be polite to call a friend who lives in town.

We decided to meet up. We were having coffee when my sources arrived. It turns out my friend and my sources are friends. My sources are even spending the night at my friend's house.

Over red wine that night, the talk turned to Zambales and its not-so-distant past. How the red flag was said to have been raised there at the time when its mountain range was called Stalin University.

We remembered people who lost their lives in that romantic struggle (everything is romantic when you're a snot-nosed college kid), couples who fell in love uphill, lovers who remained there and could no longer be found, leaving a gaping wound in those who still walk the earth.

There was pain in lost idealism, in idealists who later plundered, in diseased principles that metastasized and killed its own. Many, its own.

We recalled rivers and brooks and streams that might have been the final resting place of many who were tortured first before they were shot, execution style.

We recalled the tears of children left fatherless, motherless, or orphaned. We grieved over unanswered questions and unknown reasons that hound those who were left behind.

There's a brook out there that knows the truth. I still believe there's someone out there who knows the truth and will somehow, someday soon, tell all.

And the grief of a six year old waiting for her father to come home envelops me again. After all these years, it has never left.

Kissing a fool

I rediscovered this song today. I loved this when I was so damn young and so damn stupid and penniless. No, I don't share the sentiment. I just like the way it was written. Here's to the genius of people who write with passion. May your artistry always find a kindred heart. Cheers!

You are far
When i could have been your star
You listened to people
Who scared you to death, and from my heart
Strange that you were strong enough
To even make a start
But you'll never find
Peace of mind,
Til you listen to your heart

People
You can never change the way they feet
Better let them do just what they will
For they will
If you let them
Steal your heart from you
People
Will always make a lover feel a fool
But you knew i loved you
We could have shown them all
We should have seen love through

Fooled me with the tears in your eyes
Covered me with kisses and ties
So goodbye
But please don't take my heart

You are far
I'm never gonna be your star
I'll pick up the pieces
And mend my heart
Maybe i'll be strong enough
I don't know where to start
But i'll never find
Peace of mind
While i listen to my heart

People
You can never change the way they feel
Better let them do just what they will,
For they will
If you let them
Steal your heart

And people
Will always make a lover feel a fool
But you knew i loved you
We could have shown them all

But remember this
Every other kiss
That you ever give
Long as we both live
When you need the hand of another man
One you really can surrender with
I will wait for you
Like i always do
There's something there
That can't compare with any other

You are far
When i could have been your star
You listened to people
Who scared you to death, and from my heart
Strange that i was wrong enough
To think you'd love me too
I guess you were kissing a fool
You must have been kissing a fool.

(The video is classy and regal, and shows a George Michael in love and basking in it, before losing Anselmo. I love the lighting, the black and white treatment, the mood, the camera work.

I'm heading out of town in a couple of hours. Hug the one you're with, people! Make them smile!)

Amir and Hassan

"What is that word, imbecile?" Hassan asks.
"It's such a common word, everyone knows what it means," Amir says. "It means intelligent."
(Paraphrased.)

* * * * *

Eleven year-old Hassan had his face on gravel, two boys pinning him down. A third was raping him. From afar he saw his friend and master Amir watching, doing nothing. Amir fled. (Paraphrased)

* * * * *

I read "The Kite Runner" last weekend, from Saturday night to Sunday afternoon. Like some people I know, I'd rather read before I watch. The cinema often fails to capture the violence, the beauty, painted by a series of effective words.

The violence, to me, springs from the fact that society has determined that Hassan is to be treated less of a human being because he is a Hazara, an ethnic minority that is looked down upon in Afghanistan. Hassan's character speaks of discrimination based on genes, of a life of servitude because of one's DNA, of a fate determined by the accident of one's parentage.

The violence against the Hazaras is further carried out by an unwritten policy that consigns them to a life of illiteracy.

Amir inflicts further damage by engineering Hassan's ouster from the home they both grew up in.

Years later, as a young father, Hassan wrote letters to Amir, having learned how to read and write after moving out of Amir's home. He wrote about the war, his love for his wife and his little boy, his hopes and dreams in a land ravaged by religious extremists.

Not once did he let slip a stinging word for his weakling of a master. Not once did he refer to the betrayals he suffered in his childhood. Hassan's forgiveness was there for Amir's taking.

I spent two hours crying over the letters, over Hassan's fate, walking around with a hole in my chest, like someone ripped away my heart.

In our world that becomes more cruel by the day, there's too little space for the kindness of the likes of Hassan. They don't wire people like that anymore. No, not that kind of intrinsic kindness, not that kind of compassion, not that kind of wisdom, not that kind of innocence.

And I think that was why my heart bled that weekend.

WHOPPER!

NOTE TO SELF: I THINK YOU ARE IN LOVE!
Yahoooooooo!

Talk to the plants....

Iniuwi ko ang dalawang cactus noong Enero mula sa Benguet. Ang ganda ng mga bulaklak kasi. Naisip ko, dalawang beses isang linggo kung kailangan ng mga ito ng atension. Sige, kaya ko na iyon. Pampalit kay John Travolta.

Ganito ang itsura ng cactus ko noon. Parang nagyayabang ang bawat butas ng dahon at nagsasabi na "Ako rin! May bulaklak din ako! Lookit me! Lookit me!"



Nang maubos ang ipinagmamayabang na ganda ng tinamanang lintek, malungkot na berdeng matatabang mga parang dahon lang ang natira. Miserable ang itsura. Parang naluoy na pag-asa.

Sabi ng mga kaibigan ko, kausapin ko raw ang halaman. Lintek. Daig ko pa ang sintu-sinto pag may nakakita sa akin. (Oo, kung minsan matino ako.) Pero dahil ako lang naman mag-isa sa bahay, sige na. Kausapin ang halaman.

Hinigitan ko pa ang pagsunod sa payo. Sus. Binulyawan ko ang cactus. "O, ano? Kailan ka mamumulaklak ulit? Ha?" Tuwing umaga at pagdating ko sa gabi, nakakatikim ang mga cactus ko ng bulyaw. Para mas lumusog, sabi ko.

Eto, makalipas ang ilang buwan, wala pa ring bulaklak ang cactus. Pero may tumubo. At may mensahe ang cactus ko. Iyong paborito kong sabihin kapag may gusto akong bulyawan pero di ko magawa dahil may breeding daw ako.

FQ!

Yolly

She's nice. She makes me coffee when she knows I need cheering up. She makes sure I pay my bills (and in the process, has saved me from several threatening power cut off letters). She takes care of me in more ways than one.

Her name is Yolly, and she's our office utility person.

She's always thankful, but she's always in debt. She works hard, but the bills continue to pile up. She has two kids. I often ask her to do some small tasks for me, like organize my receipts, and I pay her for it. She refuses the money, but I always win the argument. It's my way of adding to her income without making her feel like it's charity. The last thing I want is for her to lose her pride.

When she does her errands, she often gets back to the office hours after lunch, sweating, tired, sometimes her feet are muddied. She washes the dishes before she eats.

I've always wondered how she'd feel if she returns to the office without the pile of dirty dishes waiting for her. If the tiny kitchen is clean and all she has to do is sit down and eat.

Today, I rolled up my sleeves and did the dishes.

Hours later, I heard her asking the staff why I cleaned up.

"I just wanted to give you a treat today," I said.

She smiled. Minutes later, she handed me a mug of hot coffee.

I think it's one of the good things I've done for anyone lately. It feels good.

It's also my way of observing Holy Week. A bit early, I know, but who wants to postpone feeling good for another week?

OH NO!

I'm depressed.
I can't shake it off.
I'm on autopilot.
Tangnangsyet.

Dog days

My master's sentiment weighs me down

Kalmado

Isang lalaki sa dapithapon, Setyembre 2007.

Wala pang alas-nueve ng gabi, handa na akong humiga sa kama at magbasa. Kalmado ang araw ko. Hindi pala, hapon lang.

Wala akong day off sa buong linggong ito. May kinailangan kaming kausapin noong Sabado, at naubos na naman ang reserba kong wikang banyaga.

Kanina, may kausap ulit kaming taga-ibang bansa sa napakamahal at makasaysayang Manila Pen. Nasaid lalo ang reserba ko. Tsk! Scrapping the barrel, wika nga ng isang seksing artista. (Huwag nang laitin. Seksi na, maganda pa. Kung grammarian pa siya, saan na tayo pupulutin? You want to have your cake and bake it, too?)

Sulit naman. Marami akong natututunan sa ganitong usapan.

Bago ako umuwi, naisip kong dumaan sa bahay ng kikayan. Huwag mo nang tanungin kung anong kakikayan. Basta, nagkikay ang lola mo. Minahal ko ang sarili ko.

Tapos, nakapag-grocery ako bago ako umuwi. May apple at cranberry juice na ako ulit. Yehey! May kape pa. May bigas pa. May shampoo at conditioner pa. Mahal ko lalo ang sarili ko.

Umuulan nang lumabas ako ng grocery. Lalo akong sumaya. Para akong palaka na natubigan ang paligid.

Pagkaparada ko kay Jiminy da Cricket, pagsakay ko sa elevator, narinig ko ang usapan. May misa sa 14th floor. Hmmm...tagal ko nang di nagsisimba. Kumain muna ako ng tira ko sa Napoli's. (Sa susunod, di nila dapat ipagyabang na batbat ng hipon ang kanilang pesto. Hibe ang totoong tawag doon. Bawasan din ang olive oil.)

Pagdating ko sa 14th floor, namangha ako. Ang ganda pala ng makikita mo roon. Ang ganda pati ng paglubog ng araw. Thank you, Big Boss Up There! Marami ring lugar na may puno pa. I love QC talaga.

Iyon nga lang, huling limang minuto na lang ng misa ang inabutan ko. Pero ang sarap pa ring marinig iyong "humayo kayo at magpakabuti." (Ganoon nga ba? Tagal na talagang di ako sumisilip sa simbahan.) Hindi ako nakatikim ng sermon, pero may basbas akong naabutan. Saan ka pa?

Kaya eto, kalmado ako ngayong gabing ito. Ilang minuto pa, katabi ko na naman sa kama sina Mr. Newsweek at Mr. Time. Nasa gitna na rin ako ng Absurdistan na libro ni Gary Shteyngart. (Salamat, Angel at Nessa! Oo, nadoble ang kopya ko.) Ayan, makakapag-ipon na naman ako ng wikang banyaga.

PS: Natapos ko na si Siddartha. (Salamat ulit, Nessa!) Tapos ko na rin si Don Quixote. (Salamat, Engr. Sungit!) Si Mark Haddon at ang kanyang autistic na libro. (Salamat Con!) Tapos ko na rin si Life of Pi ni Yann Martel. (Salamat, Avie!) Ito yata ang taon na dalawang buwan pa lang ang lumilipas, marami na akong nabasang libro. Bukod pa iyan sa mga magazines na linggo-linggo kong binabasa.

Teka, hindi kaya ito ang dahilan kaya wala akong kalukadidang? Dahil tambak ng libro at magazines ang kama ko at wala na akong espasyo para sa lalaki?

Ay, mali. Di nga pala ako nagpapapasok ng lalaki sa unit ko. Stupid Cider House Rule kaya iyon? Dapat yata baguhin ko na.

Hmmm...teka, mukhang mababago nga. Sabi kasi sa 10 commandments, love thy neighbor, di ba? Sabi rin sa Sesame Street, get to know the people in your neighborhood. Hah! Abangan natin ang susunod na kabanata.

Running on empty

(Don't steal, please, not even photos. The government hates competition.)

There's a conference on impunity at the Manila Pen so we decided to show up on the final day, yesterday. The lunch was good. Hehe.

We were assigned a $150 per day room so we set up camp there for our coverage of the rally. Hah! Billeted at The Pen for a rally. Life is good.

It involved a lot of walking. And people watching. We saw Wigberto Tanada, Ping Lacson, and a few others who were silently - and correctly so - there.

My leg muscles were complaining by 7 P.M. But I loved every minute of it.

I ran into a young girl whom I haven't seen in years. I hugged her and it felt right. She says she's been reading my blog and I wanted to kick myself. I always thought the people who read my posts are all adults.

That she found Atticus is testament to how smart she is. That she was there in the rally is proof of how brave and idealistic she is. I wonder if she still screams while watching horror movies, which is why I avoided watching that type of movie with her. Que horror! I want to save my hearing until my senior citizen years, thank you.

Taxi drivers think Filipinos are less worthy of a ride, preferring foreign-colored passengers over us. It was an hour before one took pity on us. Hmmm, Jojo Binay, take a cab along Ayala, please.

I got back to our Kyusi office at almost midnight. Jiminy da Cricket's dashboard had this gasoline sign blinking. Argh. So unladylike. Driving a hungry car.

I fed him today. Full tank. He's purring nicely at me. I feel he loves me again.

But I hate the fact that we still have the same president who has no sense of shame.