Random written things

Suddenly so self-conscious of using present tense

2020-07-08T09:17:07Z

Out of the many things I've written this year, I think that they're almost always in the present tense. Maybe the some of the longer works I have exceed 5k words.

*sigh*

I saw someone tweet about finding present tense in fiction as not as readable. :( I don't know if I've stopped being critical of the way people use language and just go with whatever feels good. Or workable.

Is it bad to use present tense? Should I now edit everything to make it all past tense?

I don't have a beta reader and I am forever really scared of having one because I know some things I think of are not quite good but still things I want to write.

See? This is why I don't really think of myself as a writer-writer. Even if I could churn practically 5k words in a week when an idea hits me, I can't write well. I can only try to tell the thoughts, pictures and voices in my head as best as I could with the limited skill that I have. :(

What makes a writer? That you write?

But what if you keep writing in the present tense? Does that make your fiction automatically bad? Not valid? Is the present tense very bad?

When should past tense be used?

Sometimes I feel like for the things I write, past tense is too... restrictive. Formal. Stifling.

And it feels like I'd be pretentious to suddenly shift into past tense in my fiction where I keep it casual and vague, focusing on mood and feeling and some actions.

UGH.

I at least posted the latest fic I worked on before I got discouraged by that.

I am going to keep this piece in mind. In Defense of the Present Tense.

If I am going to use past tense, it will probably be in a very long fic. More than 6k words of stuff. With history. But if it's just a scene, even if it's 6k words long, I might stick with present tense. Unless I am certain that the POV I am using is of someone who's telling someone that already happened in the past, something definitely in the past with no questions about it being in the past.

But I dunno. I could just be very insecure right now, that's why I am panicking and shitting myself in this log.

PS: Okay so I will have to take at this other piece about the pros and cons of using either present or past tense.

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Water

2020-06-29T15:52:14Z

You are water —
   flowing through the river of life.
You are water —
   the rain that hits the ground to give life to seeds
   planted deep into the soil.
You are water —
   the cooling feeling on a hot summer day.
You are water —
    every teardrop adds to the pool around you,
    carrying the weight of your worries.

I hardly write anything here but I wrote this in my actual notebook earlier and felt like, hey, should I post it?

I am so distracted, sad, distraught. My mood is so bad so I guess I take refuge in words and images that I associate with life and sadness. Water.

I don't even know what water is sad. I just feel like it is.

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Tumblrpocalypse is here and so I am revisiting this blog

2018-12-07T09:47:11Z

This is supposed to be my writing blog but I have stopped writing a long time ago. Ok, maybe I got back to do some writing last year, fan fiction for Yuri on Ice. But it seems like I might be using this blog for fandom things. I dunno.

Sadly, I now cringe at my writing but hey, at least I tried writing? These are old old things and I dunno if they should be counted haha! But I did try.

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Fiction: B&M

2011-01-03T18:07:15Z

Martha was sitting on the bench, waiting for Benjamin to arrive. She was nervously waiting for him, the man she hasn't seen for a week. The man who has just confessed his love to her, the man who just revealed another facet of himself to her. They were supposed to meet up in the park in their university. They have this particular spot where they ended up hanging out regularly.

Martha was getting really nervous. She was looking at her watch over and over again. Did she get there too late? Was Benjamin's watch synchronized with hers? Did they actually agree on what time to meet? There were at least five different suggested times to meet-up. If ever she got it wrong, she'd just have to wait.

Rummaging through her bag, she took out a pocket-sized notebook and a pencil. She wrote down the items she needs to buy if she'd be baking his favorite apple pie. And she added to the list the things her sister seems to have been looking for like this brand of toothpaste and a huge tub of hair product. Oh and she might as well buy laundry detergents and stuff.

She looked at her watch again after making the list. No sign of Benjamin. Martha was getting impatient and at the same time even more nervous about getting the details wrong. Should she send him a text message? Should she call his cell? No, she can't. She musn't. Or should she?

Martha fidgets as she sits on the bench. People are passing her by. They don't pay attention to her. After all, everyone's got their own business. Why should they stop and stare at her? It's just that she can't help but look at everyone else, that's why she's getting conscious.

Moments later, she realizes it's not supposed to be this way. She needs to go away. Why is she the nervous one? Why should it matter what she thinks? Why would he have to lay his heart in front of her when it is not proper?

And so Martha brings out her mobile phone from her bag and sends him one short message. "See you after graduation. Maybe."

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The not so shared writing blog

2010-10-07T16:54:42Z

It exists mainly for me. I need to remember to write.

I realize that at this point in my life, I am not confident about a lot of things. My writing, included.

If people end up finding this writing blog and if ever they do like anything I wrote here because they could relate or because the quality of writing was good, then I am glad someone finds it ok.

But really, I ask myself these days: Why do I do things? Why do I still want to write despite the number of things I've been through which are not related to writing at all? Why do I bother trying to write poetry despite the pains I go through when I write them? Why don't I write stories anymore? And why do I leave fragments of myself on the internet? This writer self being the most detached of all online personas.

I need to pick up myself again and connect these pieces together. The only one who could do that is my writer self, maybe? Because it is my writer self who could write and edit the 'me' you see online. I used to have an entire blog and a hodge podge of things about me were all there. That includes some of these old written works. I used to be comfortable with that hodge podge. And then I started learning to compartmentalize things.

Come to think of it, I still don't believe in compartmentalization completely. Because I think that one can only compartmentalize up to a certain extent, like normalizing databases. You could only normalize so much, imho. If you try to go further, it's just too fragmented already and all you'd end up seeing is too many scattered parts. But I think the whole thing is what's more important than the fragments per se. Fragments are just fragments. They won't make complete sense without the whole.

*sigh*

Anyway, I need to gain my self-confidence back. What little was there is practically gone. I get too critical of myself and when I get criticisms, I get even worse. So it's a losing battle, really. But I must do my best. I struggle and struggle, and that's part of life, I guess. Lol. So many struggles these days so I must learn to enjoy them as well?XD I don't know.

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Tick tock

2010-10-06T16:19:29Z

Tick tock goes the clock
A friend gets wed
You hear a tick
A friend conceives
You hear a tock
A friend gives birth
Tick tock tick tock

Tick tock goes the clock
You see a baby
You hear a tick
The baby laughs
You hear a tock
The baby clings
Tick tock tick tock

The clock is deafening
You want to run away from it
But everywhere you go
Tick tock tick tock
Tick tock tick tock
Tick tock tick tock

You wish you could wake up.

--------------------
I don't really right a lot of stuff these days and I just wish I could give my idea some justice.-_-
In any case, the tick tock thing was because I was talking with a friend about being women and how the biological clock is ticking especially for those 25 years old onwards.

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Be still

2010-01-01T15:24:21Z

Hush, heart
Be quiet now
Too many fears
Too many tears

It's too much
They're torture
Haunt you now
Haunt you now

Be strong
Stand firm
Breathe in now
Be still now

Stay still
Search within
Know yourself
Love yourself

You'll survive
You'll be fine
Wait awhile
You will smile.

----

This is weak, I know.

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Shadows

2009-12-23T00:59:56Z

The shadow of your presence looms
But I hear nothing
Nothing but the echoes of my thoughts.
When will your presence make itself come out and play
When will your presence make its way into the sun
I am tired of seeing shadows.
Shadows are nothing
Nothing but distortions of your past self
Shadows are nothing
Nothing but distortions of long gone moments.
I want to see beyond the shadows
And face the truth that is now
And face the truth that happens to be you.

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Isang eksena

2009-12-22T19:02:08Z

Originally posted on: 29 November 2005

This is a scene that entered my mind. It’s still hazy. It’s still lacking a lot of things. Very incomplete. It’s in Filipino. I have yet to translate it into English.

Isang hapon, may isang binatang naglalakad sa Ayala, tila malalim ang iniisip. Tila alam na niya kung saan siya dapat kumaliwa, kung kailan dapat tumawid, o kumanan sapagkat tila siya ay tulala, hindi siya nababangga o nadadapa. Patuloy lang siya sa kanyang paglalakad. Kung sinusundan mo siya ay hindi mo masasabi kung saan niya talaga nais magpunta sapagkat galing na siya sa may Paseo, pumunta na sa may Greenbelt, nakarating na sa may Waltermart at bumalik siya sa may Paseo. Naikot na niya ito. Balisa siya. Maraming iniisip.

Nadaan siya sa isang 7-11, ‘yung nasa may Valero, medyo malapit sa Paseo Center. Umupo siya sa isang upuan at tumitig sa mga binebentang babasahin. Hindi niya malaman kung siya ay bibili ng magasin o ng diyaryo. Tila nawawalan na siya ng pag-asa.

Tingnan natin ang binata. Nakasuot siya ng asul na polo at itim na pantalon. Malinis ang kanyang itim na sapatos at nakasuot din siya ng itim na medyas. May bitbit siyang envelope na may mga papel. Ang kanyang buhok ay maikli at maayos ang pagkaka-suklay. Sa kanyang mga bilugang mata ay makakakita ng lungkot at pagkabahala. Tila pagod na siya.

Tumayo ang binata at pumunta sa may mga mabibiling maiinom. Tiningnan ang mga presyo ng inumin: Sprite Ice na Php17, Coke na ganun din ang presyo, may tubig na iba’t iba ang presyo. Pinili nito ang isang bite ng Summit mineral water na kalahating litro na may halagang Php 12.25 dahil ito ata ang pinakasulit sa dala niya. Matapos kunin ang bote ng Summit ay tiningnan nito ang mga babasahin. May kopya pa ng Buy & Sell. Kumuha ito ng isa at tumungo sa kahera. Pagka-abot ng mga ito sa kahera ay dumukot siya ng singkwenta pesos sa kanyang bulsa.

Ano ba naman ito, Carlo? Pang-ilang trabaho na itong sinubukan mo subalit di ka pa rin natatanggap. Palibhasa’y ‘di pa tapos sa kolehiyo at ‘di pa sigurado sa nais gawin. Kahit ano na lang ba talaga ay susubukang pasukin basta lang kumita?

Bumalik siya sa pwestong pinanggalingan kanina. Binuksan ang Buy & Sell at naghanap muli ng maaaring subukang pasahan ng resume. Wala namang masama kung susubukan. Sana nga lang ay makahanap ng trabahong nais talaga niyang pasukin.

Ano ba naman ang alam ko? tanong ng binata sa sarili. Hindi siya nakatapos ng kolehiyo. Dalawang taon lang siya doon sapagkat naubusan ng panustos ang kanyang mga magulang. Sa ngayon siya ay nakatira pa rin sa kanyang tiyahin sa Kamuning ngunit ayaw naman niyang maging pabigat kaya siya ay naghahanap ng trabaho. Kung hindi lang nagkasakit ang kanyang ama ay malamang na nakatapos pa siya. Pero may kasalanan din naman siya. Nawalan siya ng scholarship dahil bumagsak siya sa ilang klaseng kinuha niya noong nakaraang semestre. Akala niya ay papasa siya ng Math pero sa kasawiang palad ay hindi umabot ang grade niya. Bukod sa math ay may mga klase pa siyang nabagsak dahil hindi sila magkasundo ng mga ka-grupo niya sa isang proyektong trinabaho nila. Dahil kaguluhang iyon ay hindi isinama ng mga ka-grupo niya ang pangalan niya nang sila ay magpasa ng proyekto nila sa guro nila. Hindi man lang siya sinabihan - sa totoo lang ay pinag-isipan niya nang maigi ang mga suhestiyon niya kaya lang ay wala namang sumang-ayon sa kanila dahil sa palagay nila ay hindi talaga maganda ang mga iyon. Kinausap niya ang kaniyang guro subalit huli na ang lahat - naipasa ng ang mga grado at nakasulat na ang grado sa classcard. Sayang nga naman daw ang mga ideya niya subalit ganoon talaga. Ulitin na lang daw niya ang klaseng iyon kung nais niya at sa halip na gawin niya ang proyekto na may kasamahan ay mag-isa na lang niya itong gawin sa susunod. May problema nga lang siya. Wala na siyang pera at wala na ang scholarship kaya kailangan niyang magtrabaho muna hanggang makaipon uli ng pambayad ng matrikula.

Bumuntong-hininga ang binata. Tiningnan kung ano ang mga pwede niyang subukang pasukan.

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Espresso

2009-12-22T19:00:23Z

Originally posted: 12 June 2005

I had a cup of espresso in my right hand. I could smell the aroma very well and it was something that made me a bit more relaxed. Just a little.

It was such a rainy afternoon and the cafeteria was almost full.

Almost.

The seat across me was empty.

The air was humid. It was almost stifling.

I was alone. Unless one would consider my ES 11 book and my Sharp calculator suitable companions, that is. I was in the middle of solving a bunch of sample problems on trusses and frames when you walked up to my table and asked:

“Miss, may I join you?”
And you even glanced around and seemed to want to say “There are no more vacant seats.” You didn’t have to do that because I knew that anyway.

I glared at my book and calculator, wishing that they were both gone. Then I looked up and met your gaze. I noticed that your nose wasn’t flat, that your eyes were round and that your bangs are a bit long but they did not cover your eyes. Your countenance was pleasant. And your smile - it seemed to me that you weren’t unperturbed at all by the horrid weather and the stuffiness of the cafeteria.

“Have a seat,” I mumbled, not knowing anything else to say to you. What was I supposed to say anyway?

You smiled and placed your bag on the floor. You said, “Thanks” and proceeded to sit on the chair. Then you placed your sketchpad on the table. I watched you idly flip through it, looking for an empty page. You had a mechanical pencil in your shirt pocket and you took it out. I was suddenly reminded of him - the one who told me I was beautiful, the one who told me I was a cat whose eyes haunted him. At that moment I wanted to get up from my seat and leave you alone to sketch your fantasies. I felt that the air in the cafeteria was choking me, as if there were actual hands around my neck. I got all the more distracted from solving my ES 11 sample problems - sort of. Hah. I felt as though I was hit by a truss.

You seemed to have noticed that I was getting a bit edgy. Why shouldn’t I be? All those bittersweet memories flooded my mind, sending it into a flight of panic.

I tried to not look at your sketchpad. How did I try this? I stared at my feet. My be-sandaled feet. And yet I got more memories of him. How could it be? Well, I was wearing the Mojo sandals he gave me when he found out that sandal straps got torn one time. I wanted to remove them from my feet already, to tell the truth. But I had no extra shoes in my locker.

The thought of the locker.

We used to share it. However, two weeks ago I changed the lock. He didn’t use it as much as I did anyway. The only reason he shared it with me was that he could leave gifts for me. Then again, it’s been a while since he surprised me. And now he has no reason to do so. And I shouldn’t expect anything.

I have to shake off these thoughts. I must focus on my problem set. It’s due tomorrow. My world has to go on turning without him by my side.

“You ok?” you asked me. You glanced at my problem set. I guess you think that I am freaking out because of it.

I tried to give you a smile, no matter how fake it is. “I’ll be fine,” I mumbled. That was such a lame thing to say. I try to avoid looking at you once again because all the pain comes back to me when you look my way.

———————————————-

That was definitely just a story. I had the idea during a rainy day while waiting for a ride by MRT Quezon Avenue station. Somehow, the stormy weather made me think of my college days and CASAA, the canteen by Palma Hall.

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Flash fiction trial

2009-12-22T18:58:28Z

Originally posted: 3/7/2005

The cool night breeze soothed Therese’s agitated nerves. She has been walking around, checking out clothes, paper products, lamps and books. This is what she does before a harrowing day at work. A job at the call center was definitely taxing for her. Just thinking about it made her mind swirl.

Why did she even apply for the job?

She knew the answer to that. Like any of her college batchmates, she took that job because of the money.

Therese walked on and went past by the series of malls as she went to her workplace. The fast talking reps filled the place. And in a while she’ll be sitting down in her station. Therese winced and shrugged. “Another day, another day,” she muttered.

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Letters

2009-12-22T18:56:44Z

Originally posted on: 2/25/2005

This is a story I wrote for Nikki. It was her birthday yesterday. I hope she likes it. :) I haven’t been writing much and I think that my writing skills are still, well, kinda raw. Comments will be appreciated :)

Amanda was writing a letter to her dear friend Jasmine. She hasn’t seen her since third grade. They have only been corresponding through letters ever since Amanda’s family has been travelling all over the world. Amanda’s parents are missionaries and so they have been traveling for a while until they got to Manila, where they seemed to be staying on a more long term basis.

It’s Jasmine’s birthday in two weeks time and Amanda wanted to surprise her friend by making sure that her letter would reach California by that time. In this day and age where e-mail and instant messaging have become the easiest way to communicate over long distances, Amanda still preferred to send and receive hand written letters. Jasmine was fine either way but to Amanda, nothing was more personal than a handwritten letter. She believes that everything that a person would like to say to someone could easily be read in handwritten letters. She remembered one of the times that Jasmine actually sent her a Christmas card. It was a year ago. Jasmine went into a bookstore and saw a cute drawing of a Christmas tree. Because she wanted to do something special that year (as she wrote Amanda), she decided to make homemade Christmas cards for her family and friends. The card came late because it was almost new year when it reached Amanda but she saw the effort that Jasmine put into the card. It was made of a red board and on the cover was a Christmas tree made with glitter glue. The bells and other decoration on the glitter glue Christmas tree were made of small circles of various colored paper, a bit of ribbon and the star was made of a glossy silver paper. Inside was the message: “Merry Christmas, Amanda! I will only probably make only one Christmas card for each of you, ever! I just wanted to do something special for you. It was tough and there were so many of you. I hope this gets to you in time for Christmas or I will hunt down the postman who has delivered it too late. I hope you like it and you better! I am only making it this year, ok? Remember that. And keep this because I might be famous one day and you have a proof that you knew me even before I became a star! xxxooo Jasmine” (and there was a small drawing of her face underneath the name). Amanda kept it in her box of memories which was hidden in her cabinet. She knew that Jasmine didn’t really want to show her affections for her love ones in an overly demonstrative manner that is why she had that haughty tone in her note within the card. And it was quite obvious to Amanda that Jasmine has not forgotten her vow to herself that she will be famous one day - either as an actress or a writer.

They have been corresponding over the years. They talked about the differences between the schools that they attended, the pets they had, what they got for their birthdays, the holidays that they celebrated, their favorite teachers, their most dreaded homeworks and projects and so many other things. Archives of their correspondences, mundane and profound, have been kept. They both had online journals but they didn’t really write everything that they thought and felt there. They didn’t really feel comfortable talking about some things on their journals. And those things are usually what their correspondences contain.

Lately, however, Jasmine seemed to be so busy, having no updates on her blog. At the same time, Amanda was active in the school newspaper. She was a features writer for her school paper and so she hasn’t the time to e-mail her dear friend Jasmine. They get to chat a little, when they are both online. High school life gave them too many activities in their respective schools. Amanda sighed. It’s been two weeks since they e-mailed and talked. It was vacation time for Jasmine, actually so she was expecting her friend to be online more often and to reply to her e-mails. Amanda thought, “Oh well. Maybe she was not at home because she was on a road trip with her friends in California.”

Amanda folded the stationery where she wrote her letter to Jasmine. She inserted a bookmark she made: several pieces of pressed flowers on a 2.5 cm by 6 cm pink colored board. She knows that Jasmine loved flowers. After that, she got the stationery’s matching envelope and sealed it with stickers of a floral design.

It was 3:30 pm on Amanda’s desk clock. She had to go to the post office to send it to California. After that she has to go home immediately because her mom told her that they have a visitor and that everyone had to be at home by 4 pm. Good thing that the post office wasn’t so far from their house. It was just two blocks away so she could still take her time and leisurely walk there. After all, what could be more important than for her to send her birthday greetings to her “bestest” friend in the whole world? Amanda had a smile on her lips, thinking about how happy her friend would be upon receiving that letter and the bookmark she made. Then an amusing thought entered her mind: maybe Jasmine would actually respond by sending her an actual handwritten letter instead of e-mail! Then again, Amanda knew her friend better than that. Jasmine will probably beg her parents to allow herself to call Amanda in Manila. Jasmine was always hyper and ecstatic when she receives surprises.

Dropping the letter off to the post office was a quick trip and Amanda took her time walking home. She thought of what other things she might write Jasmine the next time that she sends a handwritten letter. Maybe she will send a picture of herself with the entire staff of the student paper the next time she writes.

Amanda got home and saw that her mom was slicing some banana bread. She helped her mom prepare the orange juice and set the table in the dining area of their house. Then the doorbell rang.

“Dingdong!”

Amanda told her mom, “I will answer the door, Mom!” And she ran to the front door.

Upon opening the door, Amanda squealed with delight and she found herself being hugged and pinched by a teen-age girl with really long red hair and amazingly grey eyes. It was Jasmine, her friend from California! Girlish shrieks reverberated in the entire house. There were so many things they were saying simultaneously.

“Oooh! It’s been such a long time!”
“Since when have you gotten here?”
“You cut your hair short, Amanda! But it looks great!”
“It’s sooo wonderful to see you again!”
“I know! It’s been so long ago since we last saw each other.”

And Amanda saw that Jasmine had her mom with her standing right behind them. She was grinning. “We wanted to surprise you, Amanda. Jasmine almost wasn’t able to keep it a surprise that we’d be here.”

Then Amanda’s mom was suddenly by the front door as well. She made sure that they all went inside. The mothers were sitting side by side and their daughters were happily chatting across them.

Amanda told Jasmine her concerns. “You know, I already thought you were on a road trip with your friends from California!”

Jasmine laughed. “Really? You think so?” She giggled. “It was hard for me to not tell you! Everytime I saw you were online, I wanted to tell you. That is why I didn’t e-mail you and didn’t use the instant messenger!”

Amanda stuck out her tongue. “You were mean! Nothing at all from you.”

“But if I talked to you online, I wouldn’t have been able to keep this visit a secret.”

“I know.” They both grinned. “So how long are you staying here?”

Jasmine looked at her mom. “Three weeks, right, mom?” Her mom nodded. “I will actually spend my birthday here! This is mom and dad’s gift to me.”

They both shrieked with delight. Amanda hugged her friend. “This is great! I can bake you a cake and show you around the city.”

Jasmine smiled. “Uh huh. Definitely. Ain’t it great?”

Then Amanda remembered something. “Oh no! I already sent you my present!”

Jasmine raised her eyebrow. “You have?” Then they both bursted out laughing. “Well, we got to get take it back!”

And so the two girls had a long talk as to how they were going to the post office to the post office and try to retrieve the letter that Amanda wrote for Jasmine.

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Untitled (written as catatonic saturn)

2009-12-10T12:23:43Z

What is dancing if you dance alone?
What is singing if there's torment in your soul?
What is loving if you can't be with the one?
What is living if you're destined to fall?

In the darkest corner of your soul
You want to know how to belong
You want to sing a happy song
You want to get out of this hell hole

A myriad of sorrows and pains
When suddenly a burst of light -
It cut through the pouring of the rain
And lent you wings to fly in the night.

The day you saw her fall from her tower
You wanted to be the white knight to save her
But the truth is that you were her slayer
With your own strength you've crushed her

The light turned into darkness
Shrouding your battered soul
And you ask for her forgiveness
But it's too late, you have to take its toll

On your mind and in your weary heart
You realize too late what you wanted
You wish you could go back to the start
But Fate's cruel and has left you dumbfounded.

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Empty-handed

2009-10-08T14:06:42Z

“Yomiko,” Donnie whispered.

“Hmmmmm?” was Yomiko’s feeble response. She was out of breath, exhausted.

“I think that we should try looking elsewhere.” Donnie held her hand, trying to lead her away. But Yomiko just stood there, staring at the big shelf, scanning every title there was.

“We’ve looked in this shop for around 10 times already.”

“I know, but…”

“Maybe we could ask the shopkeeper when the new stocks are arriving.”

Yomiko sighed and let Donnie lead her away from the shelf. They walked towards the information desk and talked to the little old man. The little old man told them that the new stocks would be coming in the following week. Donnie and Yomiko left the bookshop empty-handed.

Meanwhile, in the shadows, there was a woman holding a hard-bound book.

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Loneliness

2009-10-08T14:01:33Z

‘Pag ang tao’y nabubugnot
Ang ulo’y kinakamot
Buhok sinasabunot
Talagang nayayamot.

Punung-puno ang utak
Ng patsutsada’t talak
Nais kunin ang itak
Nang matuloy ang balak.

Mata’y puno ng kuha
At nawalan ng sigla
Hindi na mahinuha
Kung bakit s’ya’y lumala.

Alaalang malungkot
Nais ibaon sa limot
Kaya paikot-ikot
Habang balot ng kumot.

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For a rainy day

2009-10-08T14:00:14Z

Ang kawawa kong payong
Lahat ay sinusuong
Kahit anong daluyong
Siya’y tumatayong bubong.

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Suman

2009-10-08T13:59:34Z

We used to have a Suman web ring. It was because of what Dean Alfar said during iBlog. It became a joke among bloggers during that time.

Nariyan lang ang suman
Ito’y katakam-takam
Heto na’t iyong tikman
Talagang malinamnam.

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Tanaga on Love

2009-10-08T13:57:46Z

I think these two should be in one post even when I didn't write them together originally.

Tikom na aking labi
Malamig na ang kape
‘la ka pa ring sinabi
Ikaw ba’y talagang torpe?

---

Sa iyong mga mata
Sarili ay nakita
Pag ikaw ay kasama
Pagsinta'y nadarama

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Emacs Planner tanaga

2009-10-08T13:54:32Z

Planner Mode ni John Wiegley
Ngayon ni Sacha Chua
Talagang nakawiwili
Talagang nakatutuwa.

John Wiegley’s Planner Mode
Now Sacha Chua’s
Truly captivating
Truly amusing.

___

Emacs na mahiwaga
Sa Planner natutuhan
Madali pag mat’yaga
At mayro’ng kabuluhan!

Mysterious Emacs
was learned through Planner
Easy if you persevere ...
(I forgot how I translated it and the one on the archive is incomplete)

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Melancholy duo

2009-10-08T13:50:22Z

These tanaga seem to reflect my state of melancholy during the time I wrote them.

Nar’yan sa kalangitan
Ang maliwanag na b’wan
Talang nagkikislapan
na aking tinitingnan.

---

Kahit ikaw ay sawi
-’yan din ay mapapawi
Sa sumpang namutawi
-’yan din ay mababawi.

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Tabloid-worthy tanaga

2009-10-08T13:47:20Z

These are two separate tanaga. At the time I wrote them I was just having fun playing with words and thinking of possible tabloid-worthy poems.

Tinidor at tirador
Dala ng isang traydor
Pagpasok niya sa parlor
Tinumba ng birador.

---

Sa sobrang pagkainip
Sa sinakyan nilang dyip
Barkada ay naidlip
Patay sa panaginip

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One about books, another about cloth

2009-10-08T13:38:51Z

About books:

Mga akdang binuklat
maraming nakasulat
at isinisiwalat
kaya ako’y namulat.

About cloth:
Hinabing mga tela
makukulay na hibla
binenta sa Maynila
ngunit pera’y nawala.

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Some tanaga

2009-10-08T13:37:56Z

Here is one:

Bituing kumikislap
At mga alitaptap
Pinapawi ang hirap
Ng isang nangangarap.

And another:
Saranggola kong ito
Sa hangin nalilito
Paroon at parito
Wala ring sinasanto.

And the last one, so far:
Paghaplos ng hangin,
pagkislap ng bituin,
mga sulyap na palihim -
masarap sa damdamin.

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Found my tanaga!

2009-10-08T13:36:24Z

Well, most of it. Thanks to the Internet Archive. I used to have lots of fun writing tanaga and I want to bring back those days.

My tanaga could be seen from this page. But I am going to paste them all here in DW just because I want to remember all of them.

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Traffic

2009-10-07T02:03:44Z

This is a story I wrote way back in college. I have yet to find the other one. See? I didn't write as much, even if I wanted to. Sadly, I couldn't find the stories I wrote for friends back in college. One of them actually now feels similarly close to real life. Well, not all aspects of that story but still... Anyway, say whatever you want about this story if you want to.

Traffic

It is a busy Monday morning. Along Commonwealth Avenue is a horde of people waiting for jeeps, buses, FX taxis... You know how it goes. It's a jungle out there, or so they say. To most commusters it's more like a wrestling arena. Men and women do not seem to care whether or not they've stepped on somebody else's toes, caused someone else to be late, accidentally pushed someone... Sometimes, you never know which is worse: the WWF Royal Rumble or the Monday morning commute to school or to work. Amidst the horde, there is a pretty young lady with a medium size figure. She's not that tall at all, probably just five feet and two inches (also known as the minimum height requirement for female applicants to fast food chains). She is clad in the uniform of Manila's oldest university, that blue skirt and white blouse. And she's wearing not so high-heeled shoes. A practical move, knowing the commuting situation from where she is coming from. Her long black hair is pulled back by two powder blue barrettes and she is clutching to her chest a big thick book, and her small black shoulder bag is slung over her right shoulder. She scans the highway for any sign of buses going to Quiapo. So many jeeps, so few buses this morning, she thought. Beside her, a shifty-eyed 30-year old man looked at her wrist, from which a silver bracelet with little heart charms have been dangling. Feeling the man's eyes upon her wrist, she breathes a short prayer of protection and provision - a bus! she must get on one soon. I don't like the way he looks at me... Maybe I'm just paranoid, she thought as she frantically searched for a ride to school. The people were actually blocking her view, so she couldn't see very far. Uy. There's one!, she thought, then she breathed a sigh of relief. Not minding whatever it was that she stepped on, she scampered towards the bus.
The shifty-eyed man yelped in discomfort and sudden slight pain and hollered "Hoy! Watch your step, miss!" But the girl in uniform was already entering the cool confines of the airconditioned bus.

**_*+*_*+*_*+*_*+*_**
Ah! The Acad Oval looks so great this early in the morning, the young man thought as he jogged. The State University's Academic Oval is lined with acacia trees that have long, thick branches with lush foliage. It gives the University that feeling of freshness and new hope especially on a wonderful Monday morning. Anyway, the young man of not-so-average height, probably five feet eight inches tall, and of a robust health, was jogging alone, sweating as if had been jogging for an hour already. Maybe it was just nearly an hour. No wonder he started feeling a little weird, his knees almost giving way. Humming a tune always helps when jogging alone and feeling a bit tired, he told himself. He started humming a tune. After a while, he stopped humming and asked himself, What are you humming? The last song that he heard on the UP-Philcoa jeep was still playing in his brain. "Last song syndrome," he muttered. his next thought was, Stupid song. He groaned. The image of a lightbulb flashed in his mind. That is true, he thought. Then, he snickered, "Stupid talaga." So it is the stupid song playing his mind. The one with the lyrics going "stupid" in the chorus. Oh yeah. That is one song that gives a really long and lasting last song syndrome. The operative word is "lasting." His mind strays as he notices the smooth curves of the girl jogging in front of him. It was enough to distract him for a little while. That is one of the benefits of jogging.

**_*+*_*+*_*+*_*+*_**
The week is a hectic one, being exam week and deadline of projects week. Students from all over the country are either in front of their computers and/or typewriters (depending on which gadget the student has on hand) with their wrists feeling so awful because of the awful lot of typing that has been done (dreading what has yet to be done). Click, clack, clack-a-tackt, tack, click. These sounds could be heard in almost every room in the dormitories and boarding houses. The lights are on for those who can't bear the thought of using soft light while cramming. (Soft light doesn't really help some students - there are those who say that soft light induces sleep.) Volumes and volumes of reference materials are in front of students, creating the mess that parents hate to see. In residential areas, some of the homes have lights that are still on because of this. This is one of those times that the youth of the nation unite, when their minds are on one thing: to pass their requirements and get it over with.

**_*+*_*+*_*+*_*+*_**
It's past three in the morning. By this time, there aren't so many lights on anymore, save for those who left them on by accident (there are those students who drift into sleep after cramming from the previous week, which meant that they have been cramming for two weeks or so). Studying and making papers for school is realy tiring especially when one has been at it for how many nights. Rest is definitely welcome. Not just rest, but also distraction. No wonder some people call up their friends even for just a minute during those nights. Somehow, it gives comfort that someone is there, sympathizing, empathizing.

**_*+*_*+*_*+*_*+*_**
"Aaaaaaaaaaargh! Why does this have to happen to me now?" the girl uttered as she threw her hands into the air. "I need that piece of paper now!" she groaned. It's a piece of paper on which she wrote the results of her experiment for chemistry lab class. The lab report that she's writing wouldn't be complete without it. She has been texting her lab partner but he wouldn't reply. She also tried calling the guy's house, but the phone just kept on ringing. Seems like he was already done with his lab report considering that he seems tp be asleep already. What time is it anyway? the girl thought. She looked at her cellphone and checked the time. 3:05 it said. "No wonder nobody was answering the phone at their house," she told herself. She sat on her bed and looked at her notes. Her pink floral pajamas have been very wrinkled from her movements in and out of the room, looking for pieces of paper in the living room, in the bathroom, under the tables, chairs, desks, sofa and bed. Her long black hair was put up by a mint green banana clamp but after going under the furniture it looked like a bird's nest. After a little while, she stood up from her bed and decided to just look at her lab manual and conjure something feasible. I hate doing this but I've got no choice was her thought as she took the lab manual from underneath the pile of textbooks, notebooks and papers.
Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrring! her phone rang. She hurriedly picked up the receiver from her sidetable. "Hello?" she muttered as she picked up the phone. "Yes, darling? What is it?" she asked the person on the other line. She listened intently to what the caller was saying.
After a fifteen minutes, she hung up the phone and started to sob.

**_*+*_*+*_*+*_*+*_**
3:10AM was the time that the taskbar displayed on the computer. Winamp was playing their assortment of mp3 files, to keep them company in the lab. It was dance music from the 70's (VST, Hotdog, etc.), R&B tunes, some Daft Punk and Kylie Minogue (songs that are light and bouncy, also the songs that stick in one's head) and some alternative songs that helped them get through long nights of finishing their projects and studying for long exams and recitations. Tonight is one of those long nights that they stayed in the computer lab... There were seven of them, all young men. However, two of them were already asleep. One was under the table, his head propped up by a throw pillow; while the other one lied down on a cot, with his face down. Two of the people who were in the lab, were in front of the computer, programming something. A guy with glasses was fixing up his circuit board on one corner of the room, while the sixth guy was yawning as he turned the page of his big book on electromagnetics.
"I don't think I'd be able to finish whatever I need to study. I'm so sleepy already," he said, yawning. More like talking to himself, not really trying to elicit any reactions from his friends who were busy.
The bespectacled guy who was trying to finish his circuit board looked up from what he was concentrating on. "How many chapters to go anyway?" he asked.
The guy flipped through the book to check his progress. His face lighted up. "Well, what do you know! Just one more chapter after all." He grinned to his friend.
"See? Not bad. You can finish it," was the bespectacled guy's encouragement to the other guy. He gave the book-guy a thumbs up then went back to work.
Yeah, he's right. I can finish this, he thought. He still had seven hours before his exam. And I better finish this soon so I could still catch some z's... Maybe three hours of sleep, he told himself so that he would hurry up in finishing his review. He has been studying for how many nights already and he actually felt a little confident, though somewhat still unsure. Daft Punk's "One More Time" was making him want to dance at this time. Makes his mood better, wanting to celebrate... The celebration is after I pass this exam... That is the exam at 10am. It is, as usual a two-hour exam that fries the brain cells. Who makes those exams anyway? Some alien instructor whose brain is like a fast processor. And how does that professor even remember all thsoe things? As Daft Punk's song was fading into oblivion, he suddenly remembered that that morning was supposed to be his schedule to jog. Scrap that jogging, he told himself. Must pass the exam. I don't wanna take that subject one more time. Yeeeesh. He looked back and checked on the guy finishing his circuit board. He looked to his left and saw that the two other guys were concentrating. He shrugged. Well, at least we're all in this together was his thought before going back to his reading.

**_*+*_*+*_*+*_*+*_**
At last, most of the students could relax already. After all, the exams are over. Finished. That was it. Finally. Yes. It's over. Vacation has come. But not until the day after the final final exam because after the exam is the long trip going home. It might not really be that long but it's the time that one savors the feeling that getting a ride home means going home, as in going home, not to study, not to type papers but to be able to unwind with people you love, people you're so comfortable with.

**_*+*_*+*_*+*_*+*_**
&nbshe door. Anyway, there is a young girl at the back, sitting near the window. She was adjusting her blue skirt so that the one sitting beside her wouldn't sit on it. She clutched her small black shoulder bag closer to her, making its place more secure. Her silver bracelet with heart-shaped charms and a little bell jangled as she placed her left arm upon the bus window's ledge. She looked at her reflection on the window and said to herself I don't look so bad. Then she sighed. Nothing seemed important at that point of her life. After all, she wasn't able to make a very good lab report, having lost the information she needed. Whatever. It's done. Nothing could make it any better... was her hopeless thought. She was supposed to make a good lab report for her chemistry class because she was hoping to get a very high grade at the end of the semester. Her bangs suddenly covered her eyes and she brushed them away thinking, How I wish my memories of him could be easily brushed away too.

**_*+*_*+*_*+*_*+*_**
The Sunken Garden is so inviting. Students just gravitate there. It's a relaxing place. It's a spot where one could find peace in a university full of chaos. It's the end of a very long week and people just want to rest, catch up on their sleep, play frisbee with their friends, lie down on the grass, find their lost thoughts... A young man is riding on a jeep. He had a big blue backpack which looked as if it contained an anvil, his hair is disshevelled and his white round-necked shirt looked like it has been worn out. He wasn't able to wash some of his clothes so he wore older clothes to school, having to bring his things to the lab earlier that week, for those long sleepless nights in the lab. He couldn't wait to get home and rest. As the jeep passes by the Sunken Garden, he looks from the jeep's window, trying to catch a glimpse of what is going on there. That was when his eyelids seemed to have become heavier. I need sleep so bad, he told himself. He has been sleeping in the lab all week. Well, sleeping is not the operative word. More like studying continuously. And he has been so tired that he missed his jogging schedule yesterday. He drew a deep breath. His face is haggard, his normally smiling brown eyes have lost their luster because weariness has set in already. An awful heavy feeling has replaced usually cheerful feeling. Worry has been gnawing at his brain. But at this moment, thoughts of lying down his soft bed started to lull him to sleep.
That was when the jeepney driver decided to put on a tape into his cassette tape player. A weird beat and a high pitched voice started rapping the lyrics of the song. Why does this stupid song have to play right now? Last song syndrome strikes again...

**_*+*_*+*_*+*_*+*_**
Getting home and finding one's self alone is not exactly a very comforting feeling. She found herself alone, lying down on the couch, holding a big yellow fluffy stuffed toy rabbit in her arms as she sobbed her heart out, her sobs drowned by the songs on the radio. Then she stood up and changed the radio station. She didn't want to hear their theme song on the radio. It was just too much.
"The time now is 6pm, time check brought to you by Visine. Visine gets the red out in sixty seconds." That was the DJ saying the time. I didn't even know that it was already six, she thought. "I should get dinner ready," she said out loud. The stuffed toy was placed on the couch, then she moved towards the refigerator. She opened it and saw that they still had those chicken nuggets ready for frying. She didn't want to think anymore so she just got the box of ready to fry chicken nuggets, and left over lasagna. Fry the nuggets and heat up the lasagna - that was her plan. How could she still think of cooking something fancy when she was feeling that bad already? Besides, it was just the two of them staying home (her younger brother and herself) because their parents were still enjoying their short vacation in Tagaytay.

**_*+*_*+*_*+*_*+*_**
The traffic in Quezon Avenue wasn't so bad that afternoon. He was able to get home early. 6:03pm he read on his watch. Haven't been home this early before, he thought as he entered the gate of the compound in which his family lived. He had his big blue backpack slung over his right shoulder as he walked toward the house. A fluffy white cat meowed at him. He bent his knee so that he could pet the cat. The cat looked at him and meowed again.
"You seemed to have missed me, Kitty. Meow," he patted the cat on its head and it rubbed itself against his foot. He smiled, thinking that his pet cat missed him after a week of not staying home. He scratched the cat's ear and told it to follow him because he was going to open the door already. He took six steps then he was at the front door of their house already. He knocked three times and his mother opened the door for him.
"Uy, I thought you were your brother," his mother greeted him as she let him inside the house. "Normally he comes home around this time, you know."
He placed his bag on the couch and sat down. Then he started taking off his shoes and socks. "My exam was over by twelve but I still wanted to take a nap before going home just to make sure I wouldn't be so groggy as to lose my way," he told his mom, laughing a little.
His mom smiled at him. "That was practical of you, as always," she remarked. Then she walked to their kitchen. "I'll have the dinner table prepared in ten minutes. I'm sure that your kuya and Chari wouldn't mind if we have dinner already," she called out to him from the kitchen, as she took some plates from their dish rack.
Once his feet were free from the socks and shoes, he slipped on his slippers and went upstairs to change into pambahay.

**_*+*_*+*_*+*_*+*_**
The cellphone beeped and she read the message. It went: ate, m gona b home l8. u dont have 2 w8 up 4 me. m wid d guys. tambay kina mel. jz col der f u hav 2. btw, m eating out. She sighed and muttered, "Great. So much for eating with my brother." She already had dinner on the table. Well, at least nobody would complain about eating left-over food, she thought. Chico could be so picky about food sometimes...
She got a plate and placed on it a slice of lasagna, a piece of garlic bread and two chicken nuggets. In a tall glass, she poured cold orange juice. She put them on the living room table and started watching TV. It was a Friday night and like most other nights, the two major local networks showed teledramas which she would love to avoid that night. Because of this, she decided to watch "That's Life" on channel 9. It didn't help that the protagonist (who happened to be a pretty thirty-something Italian bartender trying to survive in college while working) was being hit on by her professor in that episode.
"Is it 7:30 yet?" she asked aloud as she checked her cellphone. It read: 7:20PM. Wow. Ten more minutes to "Survivor." She placed a spoonful of lasagna in her mouth and picked up the remote control. "Bahala na. Got nothing to watch anyway," she said as she pressed the numbers "2" and "3" on the remote control.

**_*+*_*+*_*+*_*+*_**
"Uy, 7:30 na pala, Survivor time," the guy said after replying to his groupmate's message. He turned to his mom and aked,"Is it okay?" referring to his desire to change the channel. His mom was watching "Pangako sa 'Yo" on channel 2.
"Sige lang. You could change the channel," his mom graciously replied. He pressed the numbers "2" and "3" on the remote control.

**_*+*_*+*_*+*_*+*_**
Maybe Sheila is home, she thought. She reached for the telephone and started dialling Sheila's number. She got a busy tone. "She's home alright," she groaned. "Si Krissy kaya?" she asked aloud then she hurriedly dialled Krissy's number. "Whew," she breathed as the phone rang. Good thing nobody's using the phone at her place, was her relieved thought. Somebody picked up the phone already. "Uh, hello? May I please speak with Krissy?" Pause. "Yes." The one who answered the phone recognized her voice right away. Pause. "Oh. Okay." Pause. "Uh, please tell her I called. Thanks. Bye." She hung up. Putting down the phone dejectedly, she reached for her fluffy yellow rabbit stuffed toy. She gave her stuffed toy a squeeze. She sighed. Am I that desperate for company? she asked herself, unbelievingly. She stared at the phone, her lips twitching.
She looked at all the channels and what they had to offer. She was just so bored. Flip, flip, flip, flip... Great workout for my fingers, she thought while channel surfing.
As if a light bulb lighted up, she had an idea. She smiled at herself. She stood up and went to her room to get something from her bag.

**_*+*_*+*_*+*_*+*_**
There was someone knocking on the door. He stood up from the couch and called out to the one knocking, "Who is it?"
"Chari," was the reply of the one who was knocking. Chari, his sister, was 18 years and four months old; of medium height and build; she had chocolate brown eyes and hair. The youngest child. He sighed. This girl should learn how to give considerations for us here at home, especially mom, he thought.
As he let her inside, she told him "I'm sorry for being home late. You see, Pia and Sandy invited me to watch 'The Time Machine.' She took off her shoes and put them on the shoerack as she slipped her tired feet into comfortable and soft pink slippers.
He just nodded as she justified her actions. He couldn't really blame her for acting bratty sometimes.
"How's mom? Asleep already?"
"Yeah. She said that she's tired."
Chari looked at her feet, as if thinking, actually looking really guilty.
"Just make sure that you let us know what time you're going home the next time that you'll be out with your friends, okay?" He smiled at his sister. He loved her but didn't really know how to discipline her without seeming too strict or killjoy.
"Yes, kuya. I promise," was her curt reply. She moved towards the staircase. "I'll be sleeping na, kuya. Good night," she said as she went to her room.
"Good night," he said, waving at her. Now that Chari and his mom were already upstairs, he was left alone downstairs (where else?) and he flipped the channel to watch that gag show on channel seven.

**_*+*_*+*_*+*_*+*_**
"Do I?" she asks herself, looking at the phone in her hand. She had to focus. She already set her mind on doing this. It has to happen or it won't happen. It's now or never. Boredom is starting to gnaw at her brain again. She toyed with her silver bracelet's heart shaped charms and small jangly bell. She dialled the number.

**_*+*_*+*_*+*_*+*_**
Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrriingg! the phone rang.

**_*+*_*+*_*+*_*+*_**
There it's ringing already. Great. Now what? Why am I doing this? were the thoughts that flashed in her mind as herheartbeats raced against each other.
On the side table was a picture frame with her family's picture in it, her cellphone, her purse, some methol candies, a pen, several bus tickets and the cradle of their phone. She knew that twisting the phone cord is bad but she did it nevertheless. She wasn't thinking straight anymore.

**_*+*_*+*_*+*_*+*_**
He was still laughing at Michael V so he couldn't answer the phone right away. After the fourth ring, he was more or less composed already so he answered the phone. "Hello?" he told the person on the other line. Pause. He had a bewildered expression on his face. "Yes, I am Raymund," he replied trying not to laugh. Michael V was dressed up as a lunchtime teledrama protagonist.

**_*+*_*+*_*+*_*+*_**
She held her fluffy yellow stuffed toy rabbit in her arms more tightly. "Uh, Raymund, I'm Tammi. I'm sure you've never met me before but I can explain. If you'd listen." Slight pause. "You will? Gee, thanks."

**_*+*_*+*_*+*_*+*_**

Tick, tock, tick, tock. The clock just ticked on and on.

**_*+*_*+*_*+*_*+*_**

"Hey. I think you should rest. It's nearly twelve already," Raymund told Tammi after around two hours of talking on the phone. He wasn't that tired but he just felt like resting a while. He has been spending too many nights not sleeping. He listened to her for a minute, she was asking him something. "I don't know... Maybe it's okay," he replied. Slight pause. "Uh, sure, I guess." Pause again. "Good night." After saying that, Raymund put the phone down and just stared at it for a while. That was weird, he thought. How come I often get these kinds of phone calls? Everytime I'm home someone calls me up and never seems to actually telling me the reason she knew my number. "That was so strange..." he thought aloud. His cat went to him and placed itself on his lap and just meowed, as if sympathizing with him.

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