Saturday, October 06, 2007

right about now

omigoodness. im like the most foul-mouthed person i know and now im getting shivers up and down my back in this net shop hearing this dude, fuckin right beside me, cussing his lungs out to his headphones, having a most colorful fight with his..his.. ionno! the other name on the ym is edgar! muddafurrrrk!!!! i think hes drunk! he smells like it too! everybodys lookin at him already! ooh scary! im having fun!

naulan

punyeta.
martes. sumakit na naman ang ulo ko. ewan ko ba, tuwing tuesday ng hapon na lang laging parang binibiyak ang ulo ko. last time nakdagdag pa si cuevas ('yung tech writing prof ko na pustiso na ang ngipin at tingin ko eh silahis pero meh anak, then again you can be gay and have kids, can't you?). leche. leche s'ya. ang tindi ng kirot sa sintido 'pag naririnig ko s'yang magbigay ng mga sangkatutak n'yang assignments. sabi nga ni marie, "i'm headache!" feeling ko tuloy minsan hindi lang si harry and meh konek kay you-know-who. 'lammo 'yun?

uwian ko na. 'di ko na binalak pang pasukan si cuevas this time. so technically, uwian ko na. yey. kaso naulan. peste, kaninang pag-alis ko ng bahay tirik na tirik ang araw ta's ngayon uulan? anong klaseng weather meron ang pilipinas? imagine, 21 years na 'ko dito pero 'di ko pa rin ma-memorize ang takbo ng panahon. ano na lang sasabihin ni ernie? baron?

isinusumpa ko ang araw; mahal ko ang ulan. pero naman, 'yoko din ng nagbibitbit ng payong! hassle times 2. cubed pa. hay. walang choice kun'di sumugod. hinayaan ko na sila olan at khriska dun sa hot pink na payong nila. mahal ko naman ang ulan. sana lang mahalin din ako ng ulan. at bigyan ng warning kung kelan n'ya na-trip-ang mag field trip sa earth.

pagbaba ko sa fx, naulan pa rin. lumakas pa 'ata. fuck. medyo meh kahabaan pa lalakarin ko, 'di kakayanin ng tonsil kung susugod. mukhang magtatagal ako sa ilalim ng lrt ah. hala, sige, hintay. hintay lang. titila din yan. hintay pa. pasensya. kaya yan. konti na lang. tangingang shet. nadaanan na ko ng lahat ng kulay at klase ng payong at lahat pero 'di pa rin natila. two minutes na lang at babaha na sa taft. oras na para sa plan b.

ayun si aleng tindera, pasulyap sulyap sa'kin. kung di lang naulan, sasabihin kong meh pagnanasa s'ya sa'kin, pero hindi. labas akong singkwenta. malutong. "ate, pabiling payong!" smile si aleng tindera. benta ang huling payong n'ya ng walang ka-effort-effort. "50 lang, 'nak." hmm. mukha namang desente ang estado ng payong ni ate. divisoria o baclaran? pagbukas ko ng color lumot green na payong, what-the-fak. parang minsang gamitan lang at 'di na ulit s'ya magbubukas. daig pa ang diaper sa pagiging disposable. goodluck naman sa'kin. ok lang. at least, nawaglit sa isip ko na masakit pala ang ulo ko.

lakad. iwas sa kulay jebs na tubig na naiipon unti-unti sa mga biyak sa kalsada. eww. pasok ako sa nadaanan kong net shop. kelangan mag-research para sa pol gov. ano daw ang reaksyon ko sa naging hatol sa kaso ni erap. since hindi naman ako fan ni erap, pelikula o politika, todo search naman ako sa google. bahala na. pamamanghain ko na lang si sir gamit ang aking incredible vocab skills. o di ba. ang sipag kong gumawa ng assignment kahit madyo basa ang medyas at masuka-suka sa sakit ng ulo. kung alam ko lang na 'di pala papasok si sir kinabukasan. pendejo.

nakauwi akong bahay sa wakas. tinapos 'yung pol gov at naprint. kinabukasan na ng mapansin kong nawawala 'yung bago kong payong. naiwan ko 'ata sa net shop, 'di na kasi naulan ng pag-uwi ko. ni hindi ko naisip na balikan pa 'yung payong dun. kahit nagde-decompose na at lahat, sigurado akong napag-interesan na 'yun ng mga kagaya kong tamad magdala ng payong. o kaya pinick-up na ng isang bata para ibente dun kay aleng tindera ng payong. aba't recyclable din pala 'yung payong ko. hay. sayang 50. isang meal ng shark's fin din 'yun sa pao tsin. free iced tea pa kung sa school ako nabili.

ang tanong: mahal ko pa ba ang ulan? oo naman.

Friday, October 05, 2007

ayaw mag-picture?



con - ceit [kuh n-seet]
- noun
1. an excessively favorable opinion of one's own ability, importance, wit, etc.



. . . surely, they weren't talking about looks when they mentioned etc?

Tuesday, October 02, 2007

Apung Gari


On her birthday a few years back, my grandmother had told us that the one thing she asks the lord was to let her reach 80 years old before she keeled over and died. She was a fairly healthy lady at 70+ so we only thought of her little death wish as silly.

Now, t's been a fortnight and some since we, the fam, buried lola. I won't speak for the rest of us but I can't say I didn't expect this happening. I mean, she was 81 and all. And she kept making visits to the hospital these past months, a little more than her doctors liked. Or, admittedly, we, for that matter. Seems like lola got her wish.

I don't know, but remembering lola, for me, is better if I thought about those days when she wasn't glued to her bed, like she had been most times the couple of weeks before she let go. It's definitely a lot less depressing if I think back to the lola that had virtually no qualms in saying antak in front an eight-year-old with a booming voice that carried through six houses past ours. Or the lola who wanted her daughter to bring her back some "stainless" longganisa from the market. Or the lola who, while waiting in a semi-classy restaurant for a table to be free, would sit down at another's and make chitchat with total strangers like they were friends since World War II. Yeah, my lola could be a piece of work if she wanted to. People LOVED her for that. I still do, matter of fact. I wish I had her guts. The kind of wit and humor and charm that she had.

Lola never got mad at me. At least, as far as I remember. But why would she? I was the favorite apo! No offense to my brothers and Jovane (only cousin) but this IS a fact. I mean, is Keannu Reeves queer or what? Being the second grandchild, I grew up being lolo's "adopted kid". I slept in their house, in their bed every (and I really do mean every) night. The wooden balcony in front of their house was my sandbox. When I haven't started school yet, Lola would take me to frequent trips to Manila (we lived in Pampanga), and in a few years I'd find myself grateful to her whenever on a bus trip and my brothers got motion-sickness and I didn't (and, my, wasn't I proud). I'd present my back at night to lolo and refuse to sleep till he scratched it to my satisfaction, or until his arm gets all dead.

When lolo died, I clung to lola. She'd tell me tons of stories about her experiences in life and I'd be left bizarred out of my wits by the time she finished. Her stories were always entertaining, no matter how many times I've heard them, and I was more than happy to listen for I could tell that when she tells these, she fondly relives all of the memories. Much like I am now.

I miss my lola.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
For the only grandparents I ever knew:

When it rains it pours and opens doors
And floods the floors we thought would always keep us safe and dry
And in the midst of sailing ships we sink our lips into the ones we love
That have to say goodbye

And as I float along this ocean
I can feel you like a notion that won't seem to let me go

Cause when I look to the sky something tells me you're here with me
And you make everything alright
And when I feel like I'm lost something tells me you're here with me
And I can always find my way when you are here

- Train