This Man Ought To Pay
29 December 2008
A mayor just mauled a 56-year old man and a kid. Here's the story from the side of the victims' daughter
Just Sifting Through...
25 December 2008
Found this in my folder. I think I made this for a T-shirt design contest (didn't win though).
Eavesdropping
23 December 2008
Jeesh. I couldn't help it.
Just a moment ago, I was seated right next to a lady in her 30's (I'm in an internet shop). She was wearing headphones talking to someone over VOIP, to a man with long hair. I was simply playing around with Plurk, just minding my own business until she said, "Kung siya na gusto mo, eh di kayo na lang dalawa mag-usap."
That tickled my ears and, no, she wasn't angry or anything. Her voice just seemed tired. Presumably, they were talking about infidelity, the man's infidelity.
Unfortunately, that's all I heard from then on; everything the woman said thereafter was mumbo jumbo (kayo.. ano bang magagawa ko..etc). As for me, I had already donned on my headphones and removing them to better eavesdrop would probably make her suspicious. Besides, it was already hard trying to appear nonchalant.
Goodness. That's all I can say right now. Christmas na Christmas tapos yan ang pinag-uusapan nila (Tagalog na daw ta).
Just a moment ago, I was seated right next to a lady in her 30's (I'm in an internet shop). She was wearing headphones talking to someone over VOIP, to a man with long hair. I was simply playing around with Plurk, just minding my own business until she said, "Kung siya na gusto mo, eh di kayo na lang dalawa mag-usap."
That tickled my ears and, no, she wasn't angry or anything. Her voice just seemed tired. Presumably, they were talking about infidelity, the man's infidelity.
Unfortunately, that's all I heard from then on; everything the woman said thereafter was mumbo jumbo (kayo.. ano bang magagawa ko..etc). As for me, I had already donned on my headphones and removing them to better eavesdrop would probably make her suspicious. Besides, it was already hard trying to appear nonchalant.
Goodness. That's all I can say right now. Christmas na Christmas tapos yan ang pinag-uusapan nila (Tagalog na daw ta).
Why Can't I Get Up?!
21 December 2008
Pardon me for this but the ultimate purpose of this post is simply for catharsis.
Allow me to vent out my frustration at my inability to wake up at dawn and go to mass. For the past two years of my life - no, make that since high school (PMT, remember?)- I have always been able to wake up at 3, 4, 5am to save the world. Almost always, I would wake up before the alarm in my cellphone goes off (By the way, the alarm clock is only a contingency plan in case I wake up and go to sleep again. That's how confident I was of my biorhythm).
But now...shoot. I've missed two Christmas Novena masses already because I simply could not wake up or I woke up too late. Even the alarm doesn't work and my cellphone is always near my ear all night. Imagine that. And I still don't know what's wrong with me (maybe, I'm just so tired, I just can't feel it anymore).
Well, anyway, for the task of completing 9 mornings, I better leave that for next year.
Merry Christmas everyone!
Allow me to vent out my frustration at my inability to wake up at dawn and go to mass. For the past two years of my life - no, make that since high school (PMT, remember?)- I have always been able to wake up at 3, 4, 5am to save the world. Almost always, I would wake up before the alarm in my cellphone goes off (By the way, the alarm clock is only a contingency plan in case I wake up and go to sleep again. That's how confident I was of my biorhythm).
But now...shoot. I've missed two Christmas Novena masses already because I simply could not wake up or I woke up too late. Even the alarm doesn't work and my cellphone is always near my ear all night. Imagine that. And I still don't know what's wrong with me (maybe, I'm just so tired, I just can't feel it anymore).
Well, anyway, for the task of completing 9 mornings, I better leave that for next year.
Merry Christmas everyone!
High School Batch Reunion
Surfed through the internet and found out there is a batch reunion in the works. Yup, that's right. It's going to be on December 29, 2008 at Bar 1, The Venue Compound. A ticket costs P100. I think this was, first and foremost, organized by the "A-list", my personal term for the elite club in the 2004 Ateneo de Davao University High School Batch (read: honors' class students and their filthy-rich-but not-that-intellectually-gifted counterparts in the general sections).
Unfortunately, I won't be gracing the event. By December 29, I'll probably be off to Nabunturan, enjoying quality time with my family. Not that it mattered though; I didn't really identify myself with my batch. I felt like an outsider, a masa kid, amidst all the upper-class natives. The only times when I truly felt I belonged to ADDU HS was with my PMT batchmates and my second-year class, 2 Borgia. And even those times were just fleeting moments. But that's already my problem, anyway.
Well, enough of the drama. More information here.
Unfortunately, I won't be gracing the event. By December 29, I'll probably be off to Nabunturan, enjoying quality time with my family. Not that it mattered though; I didn't really identify myself with my batch. I felt like an outsider, a masa kid, amidst all the upper-class natives. The only times when I truly felt I belonged to ADDU HS was with my PMT batchmates and my second-year class, 2 Borgia. And even those times were just fleeting moments. But that's already my problem, anyway.
Well, enough of the drama. More information here.
Be Right Back
13 December 2008
Ok. I got a lot on my head right now. So I'll be in hiatus for a while as far as this blog is concerned. Merry Christmas!
To Kit
09 December 2008
Hello Kit,
First of all, thank you for the friendship. Back in college, we weren't that close. I barely knew you except that you were gay and that you were our Division Representative. By coincidence, we happened to ride a bus together last year. You were bound for Mawab while I was bound for Nabunturan that night (I think I wrote this encounter in my journal somewhere). Anyway, that was it and though we talked about stuff and family and life in general, our relationship was still of mere acquaintance and not friendship per se.
All this changed when I found out that you would also be working in BayanTrade. I could remember the moment when I saw your name printed on the same Cebu Pacific Manila-bound airplane e-ticket. I was laughing out loud because, at least, I could travel to uncharted Manila with a familiar stranger beside me.
It has been well over seven months already since we arrived here. A lot has changed between us and being room mates has been one factor behind this. And though I could never compare myself to your other friends who, since they are gay and they know you better, are dearer to your heart, I can still say that I cherish the one-sided monologues (you were the one who spoke more, you know) we had every now and then.
Now, at this point, I know that you know that you have to go. Like I told you, I've eavesdropped on your conversation with Clinton last night. You're right: what has happened to both of you is unfair, totally unfair. I want to elaborate on this but it would just end up complicating what is already a complicated matter.I regret to say that I already knew from the start what would happen if both of you broke up and it pains me to see that that possibility is now unraveling before my very eyes.
As your roommate, I don't want you to go. First, our room costs P4,500 and without you to share the cost, Clinton and I will be burdened. Second, I am selfish and I want you here with us because you have to be here. We are a batch; we joined BayanTrade together and that batch will not be complete without you. We want you to still play a part of our memories here in Manila.
But as a friend, I want you to go. I want you to go because you are not the same Kit who used to hold his head up high while defiantly standing his ground against school authorities and student humbugs.Because of your messy break-up and this situation where you live in the same roof with your ex, you have grown pathetic and all the more helpless.
You want to move on. You want closure. And we both know the only way for that to happen is for either one of you to move out. Unfortunately, you have already made your decision. Clinton probably doesn't understand this because, well, he's Clinton. Pansit probably urged you to stay because he wasn't there. For the rest, they may think this move is so over-the-board because they simply don't know.
As for me? Like I said, I can't make you stay. Because you need this. Because you have to be away for awhile to find yourself again. And for the sake of this, you have my utmost support.
Good night Kit and please take care of yourself.
Your ex-roommate,
Paolo Ray E. Bataller
First of all, thank you for the friendship. Back in college, we weren't that close. I barely knew you except that you were gay and that you were our Division Representative. By coincidence, we happened to ride a bus together last year. You were bound for Mawab while I was bound for Nabunturan that night (I think I wrote this encounter in my journal somewhere). Anyway, that was it and though we talked about stuff and family and life in general, our relationship was still of mere acquaintance and not friendship per se.
All this changed when I found out that you would also be working in BayanTrade. I could remember the moment when I saw your name printed on the same Cebu Pacific Manila-bound airplane e-ticket. I was laughing out loud because, at least, I could travel to uncharted Manila with a familiar stranger beside me.
It has been well over seven months already since we arrived here. A lot has changed between us and being room mates has been one factor behind this. And though I could never compare myself to your other friends who, since they are gay and they know you better, are dearer to your heart, I can still say that I cherish the one-sided monologues (you were the one who spoke more, you know) we had every now and then.
Now, at this point, I know that you know that you have to go. Like I told you, I've eavesdropped on your conversation with Clinton last night. You're right: what has happened to both of you is unfair, totally unfair. I want to elaborate on this but it would just end up complicating what is already a complicated matter.I regret to say that I already knew from the start what would happen if both of you broke up and it pains me to see that that possibility is now unraveling before my very eyes.
As your roommate, I don't want you to go. First, our room costs P4,500 and without you to share the cost, Clinton and I will be burdened. Second, I am selfish and I want you here with us because you have to be here. We are a batch; we joined BayanTrade together and that batch will not be complete without you. We want you to still play a part of our memories here in Manila.
But as a friend, I want you to go. I want you to go because you are not the same Kit who used to hold his head up high while defiantly standing his ground against school authorities and student humbugs.Because of your messy break-up and this situation where you live in the same roof with your ex, you have grown pathetic and all the more helpless.
You want to move on. You want closure. And we both know the only way for that to happen is for either one of you to move out. Unfortunately, you have already made your decision. Clinton probably doesn't understand this because, well, he's Clinton. Pansit probably urged you to stay because he wasn't there. For the rest, they may think this move is so over-the-board because they simply don't know.
As for me? Like I said, I can't make you stay. Because you need this. Because you have to be away for awhile to find yourself again. And for the sake of this, you have my utmost support.
Good night Kit and please take care of yourself.
Your ex-roommate,
Paolo Ray E. Bataller
The Man With The Funny Belly Button
07 December 2008
Tito Alex Bon had one weird feature: he had a protruding belly button. It didn't help that he had a large belly because his belly button looked like a hidden bulb underneath his polo shirt. When I was a kid, I was always intrigued by this and how it looked like in its naked glory, especially when my uncle would rub his button up and down when he laughed.
Tito Alex is the husband of my mother's sister, Tita Quellan. I don't know how long they've been married but they are blessed with two
Tito Alex is the husband of my mother's sister, Tita Quellan. I don't know how long they've been married but they are blessed with two
daughters, Ate Tata and Perlin (the cousin I loved to hate before). My uncle would pretty much resemble a modern-day santa minus the beard: he was galante and had the physique of a couch potato.
Through the years, I haven't been that close to my tito. It didn't help that he lived here in Manila and rarely went to Nabunturan to meet the rest of the Evangelio clan. A boholano, he owns huge tracts of land in Bohol as the Bons are one of the prominent families in Panglao (that's what I think).
Most of what I know about Tito Alex came from other people. For instance, my father was amused, na-lingaw, because when Tito Alex would visit Nabunturan riding his Harley Davidson-esque motorbike, he wouldn't be bringing any luggage whatsoever. For clothes, he simply bought new ones during his brief stays in Nabunturan. Talk about traveling light.
He also ran for public office in Pantukan, I think thrice (the third time was last year, when he lost). And when he made the rounds in the town, he would always carry bills of varying values in his front and back pant pockets. That way, whenever a group of istambay, men having their drinking session, would see and greet him, he would pull out a twenty-peso bill, say "Pasensya na pare, kani lang ang naa ko karon" (I am sorry guys but this is all I have right now) and proceed to help pay for their liquor (Yeah, yeah. Most of you will say it's corruption but, unfortunately, most Filipinos in the provinces think "public official" is just another term for "personal piggy bank" and vice versa).
When I visited Tita Quellan's place several months back (because Perlin was flying to the States and I had to be there to bade her farewell), Tito Alex advised me to also apply outside. His contention was that I was young and there are many places I could go. I guess he was also trying to save me from the frustration of growing old in a country which is clearly deteriorating both morally and economically. But when Perlin was leaving, he was the one who had the deepest sigh and the saddest-looking face amongst us.
Tito Alex was not a saint but in his own way, he was a good man. He also had a heart problem and staying healthy was not one of his best suits. Tonight, while I was going home, riding the bus, Tita Quellan called me up. Her voice was bereft of warmth when she announced the bad news: Tito Alex was dead.
I was shocked, initially. Right now, at this point, I still don't know the cause or time of death (Not that it mattered anyway; details such as these are what people look for to avoid the enormity, the severity, the finality of the fact).
I don't know what kind of legacy Tito Alex will have five or ten years down the road. But I'm writing this post to simply share to people what he was to me. The grief hasn't settled yet and when it comes, maybe I can write some more about my uncle while I try to lay on the table every inch of memory I have about him.
For those who have accidentally stumbled on this post, please say a little prayer for him before you go to sleep. It would mean a lot. Thank you.
Through the years, I haven't been that close to my tito. It didn't help that he lived here in Manila and rarely went to Nabunturan to meet the rest of the Evangelio clan. A boholano, he owns huge tracts of land in Bohol as the Bons are one of the prominent families in Panglao (that's what I think).
Most of what I know about Tito Alex came from other people. For instance, my father was amused, na-lingaw, because when Tito Alex would visit Nabunturan riding his Harley Davidson-esque motorbike, he wouldn't be bringing any luggage whatsoever. For clothes, he simply bought new ones during his brief stays in Nabunturan. Talk about traveling light.
He also ran for public office in Pantukan, I think thrice (the third time was last year, when he lost). And when he made the rounds in the town, he would always carry bills of varying values in his front and back pant pockets. That way, whenever a group of istambay, men having their drinking session, would see and greet him, he would pull out a twenty-peso bill, say "Pasensya na pare, kani lang ang naa ko karon" (I am sorry guys but this is all I have right now) and proceed to help pay for their liquor (Yeah, yeah. Most of you will say it's corruption but, unfortunately, most Filipinos in the provinces think "public official" is just another term for "personal piggy bank" and vice versa).
When I visited Tita Quellan's place several months back (because Perlin was flying to the States and I had to be there to bade her farewell), Tito Alex advised me to also apply outside. His contention was that I was young and there are many places I could go. I guess he was also trying to save me from the frustration of growing old in a country which is clearly deteriorating both morally and economically. But when Perlin was leaving, he was the one who had the deepest sigh and the saddest-looking face amongst us.
Tito Alex was not a saint but in his own way, he was a good man. He also had a heart problem and staying healthy was not one of his best suits. Tonight, while I was going home, riding the bus, Tita Quellan called me up. Her voice was bereft of warmth when she announced the bad news: Tito Alex was dead.
I was shocked, initially. Right now, at this point, I still don't know the cause or time of death (Not that it mattered anyway; details such as these are what people look for to avoid the enormity, the severity, the finality of the fact).
I don't know what kind of legacy Tito Alex will have five or ten years down the road. But I'm writing this post to simply share to people what he was to me. The grief hasn't settled yet and when it comes, maybe I can write some more about my uncle while I try to lay on the table every inch of memory I have about him.
For those who have accidentally stumbled on this post, please say a little prayer for him before you go to sleep. It would mean a lot. Thank you.
Note: By the way, I was supposed to publish this yesternight, Sunday, but the server of the internet cafe just went berserk. Also, yesterday, Marky Cielo (?) died of a heart attack and the priest during the mass I went to mentioned the recent death of his mother. In short, death pretty much permeated my day.
New Rule!
Ok. I am imposing a new rule. No more talking about work. That means no more ranting out, no more gnashing of teeth. It's getting unhealthy and it's about time I focus on the positive things in my life. Plus, I think I'm becoming emo (which isn't necessarily a bad thing except that I don't like it).
For instance, a positive thing is that I have a job in the first place, a job which not only pays well but also gives me the challenges (and the stress) that I know will make me a stronger, better person. I am grateful that I am here in Manila, exploring new things, new cultures, meeting new and diverse people. I am thankful that I'm safe and sound, despite being far from home. I am thankful that, finally!, after being babied by my mom and dad for 20 years, I can finally support myself and assist my Lola Alice maski ginagmay lang (my Lola should be a retired, happy woman right now. But due to circumstance, she' still working- a fact that gives me so much angst).
If I do talk about work, it's going to be a discussion about people. Probably, it's going to be about my colleagues at work (we just won the Best MTV award in our BTG Christmas party last night! How cool is that?!). Or probably about events and stuff. But it's going to be positive, tuned in to a new and lighter perspective of things.
I'm celebrating Christmas. Finally.
"A happy heart makes the face cheerful, but heartache crushes the spirit." - Proverbs 15:13
For instance, a positive thing is that I have a job in the first place, a job which not only pays well but also gives me the challenges (and the stress) that I know will make me a stronger, better person. I am grateful that I am here in Manila, exploring new things, new cultures, meeting new and diverse people. I am thankful that I'm safe and sound, despite being far from home. I am thankful that, finally!, after being babied by my mom and dad for 20 years, I can finally support myself and assist my Lola Alice maski ginagmay lang (my Lola should be a retired, happy woman right now. But due to circumstance, she' still working- a fact that gives me so much angst).
If I do talk about work, it's going to be a discussion about people. Probably, it's going to be about my colleagues at work (we just won the Best MTV award in our BTG Christmas party last night! How cool is that?!). Or probably about events and stuff. But it's going to be positive, tuned in to a new and lighter perspective of things.
I'm celebrating Christmas. Finally.
"A happy heart makes the face cheerful, but heartache crushes the spirit." - Proverbs 15:13
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