Finding Me

If you can spot me in the picture above, well try again. Because no matter how you look at it, you’ll never find me in there. This photo was taken during my Kindergarten 2 graduation back in 1977.

---

Backstory: Earlier during the school year, our adviser, Sr. Lina taught us how to answer discreetly the inevitable call of nature by letting us wear a whistle instead of raising our hand and announce it to the whole class when the need arises.

After our graduation rites, all K2 graduates were called back to assemble inside the classroom for the required class picture taking. It was also at this point that the so-called call of nature indiscreetly invited me. And so as we’ve been trained the whole school year, I went on to get the whistle from its usual place, wore it securely on my neck and ran inside the comfort room to relieve myself. When I got out, my classmates were already scrambling to get back to their waiting parents outside while I still have to rush back inside the classroom to put back the whistle before I myself could run back to my waiting parents too.

When the pictures were distributed, I was so excited to show it to my mother who kept on asking, “Where are you? How come you’re not in the picture?” It was only then I realized what had happened earlier. See that blank space somewhere in the middle row? That’s where I’m supposed to be at.

---

Fastforward to 10 years later: It almost happened again during my 4th year in high school. We were scheduled for a class pictorial a few days before graduation and have already been told of our designated places beforehand. On that particular day and time, I wonder what got into my teacher’s head that she still had to make me run an errand for her. I could no longer remember what it was. The only thing I had in mind then was how to get at the pictorial on time. I kept telling myself I had to be in that picture! What happened in K2 shouldn’t happen ever again! So I ran back as fast as I could and found the whole class all set for the camera. I had to shout at the photographer: “Wait! Please wait for me!” He waited all right, but directed me instead to stand at the farthest end to the right behind our teacher. I was still breathing heavily when I heard the camera click.

Take a peek at the picture below and look for that blank space somewhere in the 3rd row. That’s where I’m supposed to be at, again.

Sweet Defeat

It has been a 6-year 4-month battle. Battle that involved financial woes and emotional investments between me and my former employer – name withheld to put off extra profit-making exposure.

Six years ago, they deliberately took away my security of tenure and my 14th month pay. I tried raising the issue but I was instead reprimanded. 3 years after, they again took everything else leaving just my basic pay, I was devastated.

Three months prior to the Project’s actual closure, we were briefly informed of our imminent predicament that was known as the infamous September 30. I was at the threshold of putting off to waste the dozen years I have spent with them. A group of friends and colleagues came together to come up with an inquiry letter for the company on our employment status. A number of agitating written exchanges came up that caused unwanted drama on my part, being the group’s designated email sender and receiver. If the company’s stand on our claims was unyielding, ours was unwavering too. It was such an upsetting period that it scared me even just to wake up, until I woke up 1 day and was verbally offered a 6-digit so called “end-of-project-bonus”! Why the sudden change of strategy? Were they finally bothered or alarmed of what we legitimately claimed that now they’re trying to buy us out? “No, no, we’ve been working this out for the last 2 years.” – says the boss. Oh how ungentlemanly of you to own up all the credit that comes with all these obviously deceiving intentions.

With the sufficient amount being offered, I was already about to concede if not for another blunder coming from them. They wanted us to sign a quitclaim/waiver that totally eliminates our previous lawful claims. If that is the case, then it wasn’t really a “bonus” after all. We had no choice but to go on with the battle, legally. It was also at this point that true colors emerged from so-called “friends”. As one colleague puts it – “money changes everything”. Sad but true.

We are still in battle. From the original group of 6, now remains only 3 determined persons. Bargaining is still being worked on for the next 2 weeks. Bargaining that have somehow optimistically resulted to:

1) unexpected “bonuses” for the majority of the staff;
2) an unanticipated budget cut from the company;
3) quite a large sum of unpredicted legal fees; and conceivably
4) an apparently stressed-out management team.

Perhaps in due time, I might get my own share too. It may not be as much as I originally estimated but what the heck, it could still be more than enough for me to get by until I find myself a decent new work. I may never be able to buy that expensive Macbook Pro or even that Pab Der Uomo loafers I’ve been drooling on for months but who cares? My colleagues’ accidental bonus, the unforeseen budget cut, the hefty lawyers’ fees and most of all, the annoying stress we have created for the management – all of these can never be replaced by any amount of consumable cash. This, for me is the sweetest thing despite not winning all of it.

Close Encounter With Pacman

(illustration by Joshua Cabrera)

Feb. 21,2009, past 12nn, NAIA Terminal 3

I was at the airport on my way to Busuanga when Manny “Pacman” Pacquiao suddenly walked in followed by a bevy of police bodyguards and cameramen. He was headed to a waiting plane for GenSan (which I found out later in the news, his newborn baby girl was going to be baptized that same day). It seemed everyone else just stopped and cleared the way for this ordinary looking but well-dressed man. Obviously the guy seemed to enjoy the attention as well. I noticed the people around were so excited to see him. I myself, who wasn’t really a big fan, was thrilled to see another celebrity just the same (I saw Denise Laurel and John Prats earlier). Everything else just seemed to happen so fast, suddenly he was already walking towards my direction. Unfortunately I didn’t have enough time to dig out neither my digicam nor my celfone from my bag and he was already in front of me! Good thing I was still able to think quickly, confidently offered my hand and blurted out to him “Doc Manny, congrats!” And automatically he shook my hand without even stopping and was already a few steps away when he looked back at me and grinned, pointing his forefinger at me and said “Hehe”. I bet he knew at that instant I was from Cebu. Why? Because only Cebuanos perhaps knew he became a “doctor” (haha!) earlier that month, having been awarded an honorary doctorate degree in human kinetics by the South Western University.

He went straight to the departure area and just like all other celebrities or high-ranking officials, he didn’t go through the usual strict security check, how much more bother to take off his shoes and have them run through the xrays? And the guards on duty? Oh they were even more than happy just to see the boxing great pass through them. Who cares? After all, he is the “people’s champ”, remember?

I could only wonder who these “people” really are.

reposted from lesliestinapay.tumblr.com

For Art's Sake

I am no artist. Honestly, I do not know how to draw by freehand. I do not know how to play around with colors. Neither do I have those creative eyes nor imagination. Lastly, I just simply do not know how to be one. Ironically though, I do it for a living and it has been feeding me for the last 18 years.

As a young high school student, I was as scatterbrained as a dead cat. My only concern then for college was how to get into UP for the sake of not being strictly tied up with the traditional mini skirts and high heeled shoes from other schools. Luckily, I managed to be accepted and even luckier I was already enrolled when the Fine Arts Program adviser found out I had not been asked to take the required talent exam for all new students. Everyday for the next 5 years, I trembled each time I’d get into any drawing class. No matter how great my Techniques teacher was, I just didn’t have those gifted hands like other students had. A cocky teacher even embarrassed me in front of our class by saying, “What’s your problem? You don’t know how to draw?” I had to keep myself from asking him back “Is that why you’re an abstractionist yourself, Sir?” You could only imagine how relieved I was to finally get out of art school after 5 long years.

And so as expected, I have made a career in the field of arts, specifically as a graphic designer. I spent 4 tiresome but exciting years in the local advertising world. My perfectionist boss taught me how to get into the real world. I hardly remember anything I’ve created that she had ever praised. But despite those veiled rejections, I am still grateful to her for everything that I’ve learned in the business – aesthetically and professionally speaking – for I have come to love my chosen profession.

Oddly, my next 12 years were spent in an unexciting environment yet with an unusually energetic new boss. Each time I submitted an artwork, all I could hear from her is “That’s great!” – until it already made me puke! In fairness though, I also learned a lot from her and I will always be thankful as well.

I lost my job a month ago but I must say the aphorism is true – that when God closes the door, He opens windows – because a week after my last day, a supplier wanted to engage me on some lay outing projects. I had no other choice but to accept it in order to get by. The thing is, my client is rather strange. He asks me to create a new and replace their outdated logo, instructs me to go ahead and play around with anything I could come up with and when I show him my works, he bluntly tells me “Is this all you could do? You know, you should ask me what I want because you don’t exactly know what I want. Blah blah blah!” Yeah, right. “So what is it then that really you like, Sir?”

I am back in the real world, I guess. Or should I just say, “It’s a jungle out there!”

Words

Words used to come out at such unlikely moments – while I’m in transit or during a bath or in the middle of the night, when I’d suddenly jump out of bed and reach out for a pen and paper (usually accumulated receipts from my wallet) and just jot them down till they all come into place. Sometimes, (especially when the signal’s full) I just go ahead and encode them instantly but most of the time, it takes the whole day for me to write and rewrite these ambushed thoughts. It has been a while since I last had an attack of words. October was supposedly an emotional month for me but words just didn’t show up like they always do. I don’t know why.

Today, November 7th – again at such an unlikely moment (while washing my delicate undies) – words unexpectedly flowed out along with the water coming out from the faucet. I had to rush before they run down the drain. And so here I am again, updating my fanless blog, trying hard to fill up the emptiness I’ve felt the past days. When, where and how they come next, I certainly have no idea. It just feels a lot better every time they get out.

Facts of Life

My friend B says she’s fed up driving her bulky Isuzu Sportivo and longs for a smaller car instead. She walks into a mall and sees a huge Mitsubishi Montero on display and exclaims “Hala, mao ni ako gusto!”

Huh?

---

I wait for a taxi to come by after working my ass off for the last 15 hours and a relaxing taxi driver bugs me with “Asa man ka ‘day?”. Concealing my irritation, I calmly replied “Consolacion”. Suddenly out of nowhere, a lady butts in and proudly tells me “Way Lacion diri oy, didto ra sa unahan!” She was referring to the jeepney route.

Ouch!

A Fish Called Janna

Photo: My friend Janna at age 5

A fishy little girl named Janna, who frequents my tiny but perennially jam-packed aquarium located somewhere in the left tower, is leisurely building a career of her own in our waterless Water World. Lunchtime never goes on uninterrupted whenever she comes around. All human senses, including those pretending to be human, constantly seize a brief hiatus, if only to welcome eagerly the much-awaited daily arrival of this precocious little creature. As if an old-fashioned gentleman, everyone else in the room attempts to offer her a seat but they always end up frustrated, for she oddly prefers standing. Her mother Astrid voluntarily accepts the offers but unfortunately, these offers expire as quickly as the outlandish Janna refuses them.

Barely five months ago, as the school year started, Janna had been re-introduced by her mother to this waterless Water World I am connected with. “Re-introduced”, for much earlier, and for reasons one could hardly fathom, the girl projected nothing else but an ambiguous character. She detested socializing with the other and much bigger fishes in the aquatic setting of our waterless Water World. No spectacular antics can ever snatch her interest. Not even the sweetest smile nor candy our waterless Water World can offer, can draw her intangible attention away from her own mysterious planet. Definitely, this was one child so hard to please. Janna was such a snob you’d presume she was blind, deaf, mute or something. When I finally spotted that elusive funny bone in her, I found out she was really something.

In those days, Janna blatantly exuded an air of intriguing vagueness. Smitten by her virtual nonexistence, and snoopy as I am, I struggled to figure out why this little girl’s cold-shoulder treatment on everyone else emitted challenge on my part. It took me awhile to understand this strange behavior and realized only a few months later that the girl’s snootiness reminded me of someone else. Aside from the likeness of our hair, suddenly I could identify with her. Trying to recall from the past, I remember having been rebuked often by friends of this now familiar peculiarity. Little by little, the girl’s alleged vagueness was getting clearer each day. Until I finally sensed that seeing her was like seeing MYSELF for the first time, from someone else’s eyes! I wonder what took me so long?

Sensing our amusing similarities, it was easier for me this time to get hold of her attention, and at last, hit it off well with her. My secret weapon? Well, how else is it to get through a child’s heart but to offer her toys? And loads of toys I’ve got. (I’m probably the only one left among the Water World populace who still believes in the power of toys.)

Since then, my lethargic third quarter afternoons were spent bonding with her. Conversations nobody dared to broaden. Games nobody dared to play. In short, Janna and I were often left without a choice but to deal with each other. Spending long hours together, we have created an unusual performance, which unfortunately, irritates any wary spectator. I would stand about two meters away from her, with my feet securely braced on the floor, and clap my hands twice. Pak! Pak! Off she runs, then jumps towards me as I catch her with my geared up arms, simultaneously with her own arms spread wide, legs curled backwards and head turned up as high as she can. I have to sustain that temporary strength for she takes a long time putting an end to our infamous circus act. Her legs are still curled up, my arms still shaking, even by the time I put her down. (Note: Do not imitate this with anybody a pound heavier than Janna.)

As a five-year old girl with a 31-year old mind, Janna is a nonconforming being. She peels her hotdogs before devouring them into her microscopic mouth. She insists on calling her mother “Mommy” despite the latter’s pleas to save it for later when the family’s already rich and famous. Just days before her 5th birthday, she casually asked her mother how she looked like when she was 16. Of course, her mother was dumbfounded. The mother herself could not create a picture of her astute daughter eleven years ahead. Janna’s likewise curious why my boss Alan knows my name. With my two sets of index and middle fingers crossed, I told her, “we’re close”. She immediately switched to “Bubbles” when she found out her favorite Power Puff girl was actually named “Blossom” and not “Glossom”, reasoning it out as hard to pronounce. She creates games with her own rules. Abide by these rules, otherwise, she’ll throw you out of the game. She abhors being called “little Astrid”. At such an early age, the girl certainly wants to establish an identity far different and obviously, much better from that of her mother’s. And never, ever mess with her teeny weeny eyes (oops! sorry!), or bear with the lengthy rejection from her until she’s completely pacified.

In our waterless Water World, Janna’s a renowned “one-liner” kid and my personal favorite is this one. Having gone back recently to a life sans the worldly cellular phone, and finding the necessity of texting someone, I decided to borrow a friend’s Nokia 5110. With Janna seated beside me, I reached out an arm to take the offered cellphone. Without batting an eyelash, she stared at me and quipped, “Bagaa!” (Thick-faced!). I was so shocked I could not speak for a moment. Finally, after having recovered my senses, I managed to utter a word to her, “Ako?” (Me?). She snapped back, “Ang cellphone ba! Ang sa akong mama kay mas nipis man!” (I meant the cellphone! My mother’s is slimmer!). Weeks later, I got so relieved to find out her mother’s cellphone was a Philips GD90 model. Whew!

Daily departures from the waterless Water World for her are practically unpleasant, especially when her mother needs to stay longer for some extended work, and she’s left with no other choice but to go home ahead with her father. Shedding a tear that usually turns into a bawl is a regular sight, that is if you still catch her running away from the fish-infested doors. If your senses are no more than average, expect to see nothing else but her father’s back view walking towards the elevators.

It is in these times that Janna once more vanishes and slips back into her now predictable oblivion. For me, this recurring scene may seem amusing but is sometimes distressing as well. There are moments I wish to laugh at the thought of her getting upset for being asked to go home, but am often reminded of one particular occasion with her. We were playing one of those “originally-Janna-made” games and sensing her laughing profusely at me, I told her “I’d rather leave, you’re making fun of me.” Promptly concealing my dismay, she smiled sweetly and replied, “Of course not, why should I, we’re the best of friends, aren’t we?” My heart froze and ever since, I have forgotten about wishing to laugh back at her. Instead, I look forward to the next day and fervently wait for her to greet me again with “Did you miss me?”.

Post Script:
Contrary to the subject, the author is a 31-year old girl with a five-year old mind. Oh, but that’s another story.

Post Post Script Pa Gyud:
This note was written sometime in November 2001.