First it was the oil price hike. Although some people blame the oil cartel, there is an understandable excuse--- the Iraq war. Oil price increase is a worldwide phenomenon. So she gets away.

Then it was the jeepney minimum fare hike. Though outraged, the nation can only do so much as submit grudgingly to it. They know that no matter what they say, there is nothing they can do about it. Soon it all came down in torrents; upsurge in the prices of commodities, fare increases for all forms of public transportation looms up ahead, not to mention NAPOCOR’s 100% rate hike… add that to the revised taxing system where tax derivation would shift from net income to gross, and of course, the huge budget deficit that is projected to reach P200.0 billion by yearend. What do we have? A nation slipping into doom.

And in the midst of the budget deficit, we have a government who talks about a charter change. A shift from a presidential form of government to parliamentary. Among others, this form of government takes away from the people the right to elect their leaders and to hand it over to a few who constitute the members of parliament, in this case, the congress. GMA has majority of both the senate and the congress.

We suffer from a ballooning budget deficit, higher taxes and upsurge in prices while salaries remain menial and the government talks about a change in the constitution? When you take away the right from the people to elect their leaders and hand it over to a few, you would expect a corrupt and wealthy official to take the highest post over a competent one. You expect a dynasty, a power play. You expect thieves and liars the likes of husband and wife tagteam Gloria and Mike Arroyo to milk the country out of its resources and leave the country too dry to even bleed.

How does this happen, you ask? The wealthiest and most corrupt official in the land simply buys the parliament members’ votes and we have a thief for a Prime Minister. Sure bribery has always been present in every election, but at least, the poor gets to have a shot at it. Money, in a parliament will circulate only within their ranks. The Prime Minister is then expected to get his returns from where else? Taxes.

GMA promises to do a Robinhood and get from the rich to allocate to the poor. Nice words, but what exactly is rich anyway? Honest taxpayers defined as the middle class. That means the ordinary employees who always suffer the most from government promises and corruption.

Administration claims that this will be beneficial to the country given the loopholes in our present form of government. But what policy, pray tell is absolutely error-free?

Parliamentary works for other countries because they have parties that have clear-cut objectives. A socialist party that is dedicated to socialist issues, democratic party that is concerned with democratic issues, a capitalist party that specializes on capitalist concerns, etc. Doesn’t the recent election show that up to now, we Filipinos aren’t ready for such a shift, for if we are, what is Lito Lapid, Noli de Castro, Jinggoy Estrada, Bong Revilla Jr. and their minions doing in the government? Or rather, why is Macapagal-Arroyo holding the highest position in the land?

The problem is not with the form of government but in the quality of our politicians! As long as we have thieves in the government, raising the taxes and changing our form of government will only make them richer.

Years of foreign domination and three Edsa uprisings, we still haven’t learned our lesson. We are still suckers for empty promises and still get blinded by the glare of monies and lies.

Calling to mind the fraud that was the recent elections and how democracy was suppressed in the senate by a gavel, whether or not we shift from presidential to parliamentary does not matter. What Gloria wants, Gloria gets. While we, as a nation are reduced to nothing more but slaves and muted followers. My WWII veteran granddad died in ’83 and I couldn’t be any happier. He’s better off believing that the freedom he has endured the death march from Bataan to Corregidor for was well worth it---and not lost at the hands of his own countrymen.

I went to my shrink a while back. I was beginning to miss him a whole lot lately because his visits have been rare. “Normal” people would have seen this as a reason to par-tay! But I kinda miss him anyway.

He told me that despite the occasional bouts with paranoia and sudden shifts in personality, the valium and prozac have done a good job. It costs a lot to be rehabilitated this way, and I swear, my folks would’ve wished me dead if they have seen the bills for this particular confinement. But I bet they would’ve praised the high heavens too had they known that this practically came in for free!

Cost of Confinement: Great virtual (and pppirated tokens) of friendship with Markus. The man responsible for this whole lay-out.

Shrink broke into a wide smile, a great sigh (of relief, I bet) held my hand firmly in both hands and said, “Angel, my dear shizo, you’re finally getting your release papers.”

While I am possessed by the saner persona, I would like to bide my time paying tribute to all my ward mates, temporary and permanent.

Markus, Substance and Mud: This mental ward started with four patients. And three among them gamely allowed me to call them “mental patients”. We have seen the early beginnings of this hospital even while you were creating worlds of your own. I am bound to get my release papers soon, but rest assured that I will never forget those that have grown to become so dear to me. You guys are the queerest lot! Thank you.

Paul and Akira: From adrenaline to schizophrenia, you guys were there all the way. Your comments were the most insightful ones I’ve read. There were times when we’d end up arguing about a point, particularly those that dealt with my warped opinions on love, men and relationships. Still these deepened my reverence for your stronghold on principles and beliefs. You guys will always have my respect. In my mad world, you guys remained stable. Thank you for the wonderful insights.

Ivy, Denise, Kat and Nesak: Fellow psychos! You have added a playground on my tag board. I always looked forward to seeing your names on that tag because you never fail to bring the sunshine in on my often dark world. Thank you for putting up the blinds.

To all the others whom I’ve failed to mention, my apologies. And to all those who have passed by and preferred to quietly hack into my deranged mind, thank you.

One day I may accumulate enough resources to decorate a new home, but for the meantime, I will be looking at blank walls and live my life one day at a time.

Hats off to you everyone.

And with this, the psycho takes her last prozac, waits patiently for her release papers, gathers her duffel bag.

As the sun burns in the horizon, she walks steadily out of the gates of “Shizophrenia

This is one of my personal favorites among my creative pieces. First lengthy piece I wrote and first work I got published in Peyups. This is the revised version that has gone through Tara Sering and Apol Lejano's scrutiny. So until I get my creative muses back, I have to post recycles muna. Have a great week you all!.:-)

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Long thick lashes beneath swollen lids. Delicate peak at the center of the pale face. Thin, pink lips held partly open. It amazes me how so much beauty and solitude one face can hold.

I adoringly brush his entire body if only by my gaze. Sight shifts from his face to the weak, narrow shoulders that are only about as wide as his head, frail little arms and legs that both hold very little mass, loose skin covers his entire body. His red, long and bony digits form a tight fist. He will grow up to be a big man, this little guy. My Nathan.

I was never much an advocate of the faith, but just seeing this child before me, my belief in angels, heaven, God and all the higher beings is reiterated and established. Every time I look at him, I feel as if heaven’s gates are held ajar, if only to allow us a brief moment to share a love so pure. Basic and yet, so highly complicated for words. I have never witnessed how much love a heart can hold until I notice it reflected in my eyes as I watch him from behind these hard plastic walls.

I linger on the chest, watching its rise and fall with every labored breath. Labored. Yet still, peaceful.

Suddenly aware of the hissing sound from the respirator attached to the tubes that run up his nose and the cardiograph originating from the nodes attached to his chest, I am reminded of how I nearly lost him a few hours back. I gaze at the monitor and notice the steady readings. Calm is good.

I take everything in. The wee and frail body being supported by massive medical equipment, his peaceful countenance and the effortful breathing. His tightly clenched fists. Every second is a painful fight for his life. A burning war for my sanity.

I look at these vicious tubes and feel a strong desire to tear them from his body; smash these restrictive walls in one blind fit of rage and just hold him so close to my heart. Close enough for me to feel his pain and take them away. Hoping somehow, it could be me fighting for my life in there and not him. How can I just sit here in a healthy state when my son is dying in there? My God! How much more can one body take?

Logic takes the better half of me. Through gloved hand, I place my index finger inside the warmth of his little palm. His bony little digits instinctively close tightly around mine. I sense the love between us transcend the hard plastic enclosure. A small smile creeps across his face. He seems to tell me “Mom, hang in there. I’m going to be ok.” So I rub his fingers with my thumb as I watch my little soldier carry on. My heart captures a moment.

I watch him breathe. Calm. Deep. Fast. Frantic.

His grip tightens around my finger as I watch with great difficulty, how pain replaces his smile. More labored breaths. Mouth opens wide in a desperate plea for someone to take away his discomfort. I hear him, but I cannot do anything. I do not understand all these medical equipment. I do not know what to do! I cannot just sit here! “Somebody tell me what to do!”

Cardiogram readings----erratic. Various hurried footsteps draw near. Wheels squeak at the arrival of more equipment. Apart from the respirator’s constant hissing, there is total chaos.

Bodies run back and forth in sure directions. An order is given for me to be taken away. Strong pairs of hands clutch firmly at my arms, pulling me back. My son’s grip slips from me. This can’t be happening!

“Please Don’t! I want to be with him. Please… oh God, please…just let me hold him. HE NEEDS ME!” Although at this point, I don’t know who needs the other more. I try to wriggle free from their grasps, but my body seems to have lost recognition of all sense of movement. I have no other choice but to allow them to take me away.

I try to content myself with a glimpse of him from behind all these hurried bodies, but I had no luck. I can only afford to hear him cry. Crying is good. Please don’t stop Nate. Please cry. Please.

Cardiogram readings grow more frantic. An influx of medical jargons I cannot comprehend. Readings slow down to a trickle. Now orders are more forcibly given. A lot of things are happening all at the same time, they seem to pass me by in a blur. Then a last drop from the cardiogram. A last hiss from the respirator. A small tool falls sharply on a tin pan. And there is no more.

“WHERE IS HE?… Why’d he stop? Somebody please tell me he’s ok!”

I probe the nurses’ eyes for answers; they will not look at me. So I free myself from their grip to run towards him. I yank one nurse by the shoulders to make her face me. She looks down without a word. In one dazed motion, I find myself reunited with my son---- what is left of him. This fight is over. My little soldier’s face that once held tranquility amidst the pain----lifeless. Tears still mark his cheeks. Lips slowly draining of color. I never even got to know what color his eyes were.

He will never get to see his crib that I so diligently decorated, his first bike, his first birthday candle. Even his mom and dad. They finally let me hold him without the constraints of surgical gloves and incubator walls. It is upon feeling his light, still warm and limp body in my arms that I find myself lost in one blinding flash of pain.

I woke up with a start. Beads of sweat lace my forehead and chest. Heart raps wildly inside my chest. I clutch my blanket tightly around me. Beside me and to my right, a slow, rhythmic breathing. My husband’s. I start to breathe calmly. It’s just a dream.

After my eyes have adjusted to the darkness, I decided to hobble across the room to the crib and run my fingers along its smooth, newly painted edges. It has been two years.

From the faint yellow light that streams in from a distant lamppost, I can barely make out the pink trimmings that adorn its interiors. I feel around for one soft bootie and bring it closer to my face taking in every soft, powdery scent of it. In a few weeks, my daughter is going to be born and I have every intention of bringing her home. To this crib. I run a hand over my bulging stomach and sense relief as she tries to uncurl inside me. She’s coming home. Her big brother will see to it that she does.

But for now, this crib is empty. Nathan, our angel never made it here.

Minsan parang ang sarap na lang talaga ‘wag mag-isip. Minsan katulad ng araw na ‘to, parang gusto ko lang maging bobo. Tumanga sa kawalan. Walang iniisip. Naubos na ata utak ko sa katakot takot na paga-analyze ng mga financial statements, negosyo, ekonomiya at industriya nitong nakaraang mga araw. Napadaan nga ako sa blog ng ka-opisina ko kanina. Buti pa sha nakakapag-blog.

GULAY AKO NGAYON!

Sa mga oras na to may nakabukas na Annual Report ng isang malaking kliyente ng bangko sa harap ko, may ruler pa nga na transparent sa gitna. Pampabawas kasi ng kaguluhan yang ruler na ‘yan. Pag puro numero kasi ang tinititigan mo buong araw, and taas ng posibilidad na maduling ka.

Ang labo na nga ng mata ko eh. ‘Pag siguro mga 10 feet away na sa akin yung tao eh pinaghalo-halong kulay na lang mukha nila. Pero kaya pa namang walang salamin. Meron naman talaga akong salamin, ayoko lang suotin. Siguro nga malapit na akong maduling.

“Best of the 80’s” ang tema ng istasyong pinakikinggan ko nung Friday. At ng buong opisina na rin dahil hindi naman ako naka ear phones. Pinatugtog ang “Heart of Mine”. Anak naman ng kalapating hilaw oo! (kung ano man ibig sabihin nun, di ko din alam, masarap lang sabihin) Sa lahat naman ng kanta! Eh ano eh, kainis. Kasi makabagbag damdamin yung lyrics…

“No you can’t stop the hands of time,
And you will always be the one she left behind.
Heart of mine, how will you keep from dying?
Stop reminiscing. Who is she kissing?”

Diba may kurot sa puso? Kainis. Maiiyak ka sa sobrang sentimiento! Ayoko na sanang isipin--- kasi naalala kong minsan na ring kumurot sa puso ko yan! Ang baduy! Bwisit. Isa tuloy yung event na yun sa pinagsisisihan ko ngayon. Yung mga dramang ganun?! Ninanamnam mo bawat lyrics habang pinipigilan mo pa kunwari ang pagtulo ng luha mo? Ok lang kung nagpapatawa ka eh, ang hirap nun seryoso ka pa nung lagay na yun!

May painlab-inlab pa kasing nalalaman. Nakakahiya tuloy! At isa lang yan sa mga nilalasap lasap kong mga kanta noon! Kainis diba? May mga tula tula pa nga ata akong ginawa noon at mga makabagbag damdaming mga sulat! Ba’t kasi pag ang tao talaga naiinlab parang lasing, naiiba?

Siguro nga, kahit pa anong reklamo ko, sobra ko ding minahal yung trabaho ko at one point-- kaya naiba na rin itsura ko. Nag mukha na akong harassed. Kulang na lang tagpi-tagping damit, bahid ng sipon sa mukha at karaokeng basag ang speaker pwede na akong umupo sa overpass.

Tumawag sa akin yung kaibigan kong bading nitong linggo. Punyemas na yun, may boypreng bago. Bakit nga kaya mas mabilis pa silang makahanap ng boyprend kesa sa mga seryosong babae? Minsan tuloy natatanong ko sa sarili ko kung seryosong babae nga ba talaga ako. Shempre wala nanamang kwenta itong huling sinabi ko. Ang labo!

Hay, ang utak talaga napakadaldal! Trabaho na nga, psycho! Trabaho!




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MGA DAPAT HINDI NYO NA MALAMAN:

Paul (of skeet),if you're reading this, I've been trying to visit you for the longest time now, but the graphics may be too heavy for my PC. It hangs. I've been dying to make a comment and read your entries. Not that I'm a snob bro, I just can't get into your site! Aaaaargh! Frustration kills me! Thanks for the insightful comments though. Hope I can access you soon.

The past few weeks have been characterized by stockholders’ and bankers’ meetings, urgent reports and unpaid overtimes. What would normally get me edgy failed to do a thing for me. Each day it seems, I am sinking deeper into apathy or indifference. I just woke up one day realizing that it doesn’t make sense creating a fuss over small things. Before I was even aware of it, I was already applying that belief in almost every situation that I am in, regardless if they’re big or small. Come to think of it, I have gotten to the point when nothing is ever big or major in the way I view things.

I don’t get myself involved. This, I guess is one of the ugliest place one could ever be in. Worse than anger, worse than hatred and worse than pain because one is reduced to nothing.

Early last week, I broke up with someone. Odd that I only felt irritated for a good hour or so. True that I’ve shed a tear or two but that was born more out of frustration than pain or longing. The following day, it was just as if nothing ever happened. I know he won’t be there anymore, that we can’t even be friends, but truth be told, I couldn’t care less. It’s just like he came and he went and that was just that. He was as significant to me as an ordinary shopper having his bag checked by security at the entrance of the mall. Nothing.

Do I love him? I can say with a straight face, I don’t. There was one point when I believed I could learn to, but it never got to that. I’d often ask myself why get into a relationship with him in the first place? I’d only come up with the realization that I was only trying to save myself from apathy. Obviously, it was not enough.

I just don’t know where my life is headed to right now. I guess, no one will ever be sure but somewhere along the line, I feel as if I’ve lost hope. I feel as if I am but a robot going mechanically through each day. Without passion for whatever I do. Not that I feel sad. I am not. I’m just indifferent.

I remember a good friend I used to work with, Lance. He told me that there was a time when he would lie awake at night forcing himself to cry. He would think of the saddest thoughts and try with all his might to shed that damn tear, but his eyes remained parched. He said that with a perfectly serious expression that I had to laugh. Lance was a big guy. He was tall and intimidating. He does not go hand in hand with vulnerability. Besides, what person in his right mind would ever force himself to cry? I laughed until my stomach hurt and tears came to my eyes. He remained serious. I realized that there was no punch line. But I laughed anyway.

Looking back now with a stoic expression, I realize that what he said could not be any more serious. I could not feel, I could not cry. I do not feel pain, but I do not know happiness either. I have learned to let go of love when I used to cling on desperately to it, but I have also forgotten what it is all about.

At one point, it seems I’ve ceased existing.

What person in his right mind would ever force himself to cry? Only those who are trying to save what remains of their lives, I guess.


***********

"Logic is a broken man's respite."

---Angel

I think I’m coming down with a flu. It all started with a sore throat that later turned into cough and colds. This morning as I was taking my shower, I felt hot inside. Not in a horny way, of course. I felt like there was a surge of warm air all trapped inside me. My skin doesn’t feel warm to the touch though. But I shiver. And my throat kills me!

I don’t want to get sick. Not now that I have tons of reports to submit. Oh yeah, and see I’ve posted three blogs this week! Man, oh please God, don’t let me be sick! Not even when I blog during office hours. Please forgive me! See God, I am choosing between the lesser of two evils. What they lack in monetary benefits, I take back from the other resources. The internet, the air conditioner and the computer for instance. You see, through me won’t my employers learn a lesson or two in good employee relations starting with just compensation? You inspired the creation of Robinhood, right? Please God, don’t punish me for this.

And please spare my parents! See, I live alone so no one takes care of me. Where does that leave me? It will drive me to go back to my parents’ house. Please I don’t want to inconvenience them and getting sick does just that. And what about my little nieces and nephews! They’re too young to get sick.

And forget I told somebody to f*ck off using her f*cking cell phone last night. It’s just that I am not feeling well and I get really edgy.

See, it’s a chain reaction of evils! When I get sick, I open Pandora’s box! And I fear what wrath it holds…

I know I’ve already sold my soul to Powerbooks and Tower Records, but please, oh God! Hear this psychopath’s plea!

Saint John Baptist de LaSalle, pray for us.
Live Jesus in our hearts, forever.

Amen.

Oh and speaking of LaSalle? I’ll still be on leave this term. I am supposed to take my Written Comprehensive Exams but Taft is the only campus left and it’s definitely too far for me. Both RCBC and LSGH slots have all but filled-up. Oh well, next term then. The things you go through to earn those three letters at the end of your name. What price to pay (and expensive at that!) for one to be called, “Master”. Can’t I just join a fraternity and be called “Mahstehrrr” too?

A mist is currently forming in my head, an idea for a story. I hope I get to write it in time for next year’s Palanca. Right now though, the words for that story elude me. All that’s there are wisps of ideas. So for the meantime, I soak myself in my influences.

Oh creative muses that possess John Irving, Ernest Hemingway and Lualhati Bautista, oh you divine gods and goddesses, sprinkle a few drops of your greatness on me! My faith is in YOU!

Ok God, I’m just kidding. I wouldn’t hurt to get well though, would it? And be able to write that story too?

I hate it when I’m like this. I want to be in control, and in most things, I am. But whenever it comes to matters of the heart, I am so stupid. It just doesn’t make sense.

For years I have struggled to be whole. I believe that the truly complete person is one whose heart and mind is one. I have tried to make them whole. When my heart is subdued, I am in control, but when it breaks loose, I lose all sense of reason and I lose grasp of what is right and reasonable and often punish myself in the process. I hate myself for this. Years I strove to be whole, only to find out that I still am not.

Does love really entail vulnerability? I don’t think so. Not anymore. I found out that the reason I lose my head when I fall is because I do not love for the sake of just loving. I am driven by an inner desire to satisfy what is lacking inside. The need to be accepted, a need for validation, a need for affection? Whatever it is, there is a need I haven’t met yet. And this always makes me hang on to the point of stupidity.

Loving for me is not really about losing all sense of reason. Love is certainly not stupid. Love isn’t about following the heart blindly and listening only to what it has to say. It is something so much stronger than that. It is committing consciously, not only with the heart, but also with the mind. That to me, is what submission is all about. Committing one’s self fully. Both the heart and the mind. That to me, is loving completely.

And how does one commit one’s self fully if one is not yet complete to begin with?

Lately I have learned to let go gracefully, but I still can’t help crying rivers at night for all the sentimentalities. This is what I always misconstrue as love. Do I really cry over a loss of a person, or do I cry over a personal loss?

I have pondered on this for so long, and I theorize that when I lose somebody, it maybe that I do not really mourn that person’s loss but the bit of satisfaction he carries away with him. That factor that satisfies something within me. And so long as I have this feeling, I know my search for wholeness is not complete. I know that I am not capable of loving---for I am not capable of being selfless. I am not whole.

Is loving really as easy as following the heart blindly and getting into a relationship regardless of the consequences? Is it really about satisfying the yearnings of the heart and silencing the mind? Is it really about falling in and moving on? Do you not lose yourself little by little if you fall one day at a time?

Is it not possible to love a person not because of a need he satisfies within you, but because you just do? You love him completely, you love him as a person not because of what he adds to your life, but because of a greater glory that you both can do together. Nothing can be more selfish, I think, than to say one loves a person because he completes her. Isn’t it better to AUGMENT rather than to COMPLETE? Falling in love in order for one to be whole is falling in love for the wrong reasons.

Three years ago, I ended a five-year relationship. It took me over three years to learn to let go and finally move on. I emerged hollow and incomplete. I needed him to fill a void within me. It didn’t work and it broke me. Tonight I am ending a one-year relationship. Does he mean anything to me? A friend would mean much more. Do I sense a loss? Yes. Do I love him?

I have been through two serious relationships and knowing the things that I know now, I ask myself, have I really loved?

No. I don’t think I have.

So again, I am biding my time. It’s past eleven and I still haven’t gotten my hands on some real work. I will, in a while. I just have to flex these finger muscles and communication skills just a bit. (read: SLOTH).

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I owe my more relaxed and less passionate position with regards to the recent election developments to the avoidance of any form of media. Now I have succumbed, and again, I am weary. I have said my piece and apprehensions about another Arroyo administration so I won’t say much anymore. Journalists have been referring to a time reminiscent of the Marcos era. The suppression of the freedom of speech, fueled by Comelec’s ruling to halt ABC 5’s polls. One thing the administration overlooked is the fact that media are wolves. They attack in packs. Kill one and be sure to kill everyone or everyone will be after your throat. One opinion I have in common with them is, this presidency does not look good.

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Opposition candidates have been throwing allegations left and right while the government takes on the defensive and resorts to threats and suppression. Both civic and renegade groups have thrown in a word or two, hinting at an uprise should push come to shove. Tension has been building now that the canvassing is drawing to a close. I feel an insurmountable anger start to build-up inside me. I want to go up that stage in Edsa and speak so loud that the entire nation will hear. I am going to gather all of my courage and with a loud and clear voice, shout so all these people will hear; ”RELAX! SEE A MOVIE!” Sus, grabe na. People have been threatening to take to the streets, but Edsa is already too much of an overkill, really.

***********************

Edsa is not so bad, given the right reasons. But the problem with our society lies in the presence of opportunists. Many are only looking after their own welfares and not of the country's. Selfishness can be easily disguised under the robe of selflessness. Indeed, we have to crawl before we learn to walk. But hasn’t the country crawled long enough? And until there are hungry mouths who are willing to sell their dignities for food, and aristocrats, intellectuals and opportunists who have the guts to take advantage of them, our dear maiden, Pilipinas’ knees are doomed to bleed for a very long time.

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And many still, are too lazy to have an opinion of their own. Their voice is the voice of the other more popular voices. We are created as individuals, blessed with our own unique personalities. Blessed with the right to have our own judgement. We all have eyes. We all have ears. We all have hearts. We cannot be blind or deaf; we cannot deny our identities. We are Filipinos and we have a right to stand up and be brave. Not having a popular opinion does not matter, what does matter is that we had an opinion at all.

***********************

I thought this wasn’t going to be political. Oh well, I had better lay-off the ‘opinions’ column for a while before I start shouting EDSA!

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Here is a cute conversation between my three-year old nephew, Joshua and I:

Joshua: Tita, what are stars?
Angel: Stars are those pointed things you are coloring right now.
Joshua: Oo. But what are stars?
Angel: Hmmm. You know when it’s night?
Joshua: Yes?
Angel: You see the moon?
Joshua: Yes?
Angel: The stars are the little, shiny things that go out with it. So it won’t be too dark when night comes. (smiles knowingly)
Joshua: Tsk. Oo tita, I know. But what are stars?
Angel: Hmmm. (thinks: Damn kid!)
Joshua: Tita?
Angel: You see the sun? that’s a star. (smiles hopefully)
Joshua: Eh, tita why nga? What are stars?
Angel: hey, would you like to play pirates?
Joshua: Later. But what are stars?
Angel: (mumbles) Ask your mom.

*****************

Funny how I can have all these opinions about politics and business trends but I cannot answer a three-year old's question. Deym.

I remember back in senior high when we tackled the classics in english literature. We came upon Homer and of how important The “Iliad” and the “Odyssey” have become. We were made to know these two pieces by heart. But “Iliad” will always be dearest to me because I have always been interested in the Trojan War since I first came across it in fifth grade from my older brother’s handouts.

It was decided that both the “Iliad” and the “Odyssey” were to be presented on stage. I had no hand in doing the scripts, but I was tapped to play “Achilles”. I remember not welcoming that idea much since I have wanted to become “Hector”. The noble hero, the hero with the heart. And most of all, the character with the most speaking parts. Achilles never said much on the script!

He was arrogant that although he was a great warrior, he never had as much fight scenes as Hector! I have wanted to take center stage with more speaking parts and fight scenes! And I didn’t want to be the bad guy on stage for once. Oh but well, they wouldn’t hear any of that.

I played “Achilles” ---and grew to love him anyway as the rehearsals dragged on. I loved the part so much that I even won recognition for it. I remember feeling bad that he had to die a most unceremonious death though. A strike through the heel. I have always wanted to change that part, but Homer was the writer. I was only the actor. I got frustrated regardless of how many times I read the script.

I have done a lot of stage plays before, but the Iliad was the one I loved best. It was where I got to internalize my part well. For two hours of my life, I was “Achilles”. I was my fifth grade hero.

So yesterday, as I watched “Troy”, I couldn’t help but sense a bit of nostalgia. I was surprised to find that the emotions the story conjured from me then were the very same things it conjured from me now. What pleased me all the more was that the movie remained pretty loyal to the dialogues. It was the first time I saw the film, but already, I could move my mouth in unison with some of the characters. “There is no pact between men and wolves. Nor between you and me.”, my favorite Achilles line. In the movie though, it was "There is no pact between lions and men.". I remember Agamemnon's line from Iliad well enough to know that this is nearly verbatim, “Hector fights for his country, Achilles fights for himself!”

And yes, I also realized that the scriptwriter was not just trying to sabotage my acting career, Hector did have more speaking parts than Achilles. The stunts and fight scenes were good too. Inspired by oriental moves. They were somehow reminiscent of mortal combat. Brad Pitt was simply superb with the shield.

But what really made the movie great is Brad Pitt’s butt! Damn, never knew he had such sexy buns. And that chiseled torso and strong arms! Whew! ‘Twas too damn hot in the theater, I tell you! Baduy, but I do have a tremendous crush on him right now. Gawd, I swoon! I melt. I am stupefied. Shyet! I couldn’t have played a better Achilles but I just know I’d make a great Breseis opposite Brad Pitt! Gawd! Hahaha! And yeah, I still love Achilles, much more now that I have a concrete image in my head. More like fantasy actually.

"Live life the way you have always wanted it to. Experiment and always push yourself to the limit."

This has always been my mantra in life, to follow my instincts every once in a while and to owe it to myself to do something unorthodox at least once. In my case, I get carried away that I tend to do it at least three times a year. Anyway, here are the top ten crazy things I have done. And there's more where that came from!:-P



TOP TEN CRAZY THINGS I HAVE DONE
… (AT LEAST ONCE)


10. Board surfed.

09. Hitch-hiked.

08. Sent my ex-boyfriend to Tomas Morato in Quezon City all the way from Pasay at 2 am. only to be “stood-up” by who he was supposed to see. What’s worse is that he brought his friends along. I also sent a guy I was seeing to SM Bicutan from Quezon City once, only to be "stood-up" again. Guys who flirt a lot get that from me!:-P

07. Went backpacking to Baguio armed with a sad P1,000. That if my pay doesn’t get credited the following day, I’d have no other choice but to spend the night, scavenge for food and beg for money at Burnham Park.

06. Went to Davao to visit my Lola without an idea where the house is. It was the first time I went to Davao and I never arranged for someone to fetch me at the airport.

05. Went to Davao and traveled by land to Surigao at the height of the Abu Sayaff kidnappings, accompanied only by a lone gay friend. Meaning, we had to pass through the talahibs and rough roads. Perfect salvage spots, dude.

04. Went to Iloilo to get drunk with my buddies there and went home the following day.

03. Finished a case of San Miguel beer and halved a bottle of Tequila.

02. Courted a girl just for the heck of it.

01. Had a tattoo done. And of all things, this is what I regret the most.:-P



Madami pa yan actually. Sumabit na rin ako sa jeep in my high school uniform (skirt, pare), disassembled and assembled M1, M14 and M16 rifles all under two minutes, wind surfed, went go-cart racing, went on leave and told the division head that the reason I did was because I had no fare ( I got a raise, of course.:-D), acted on t.v. na putek! binugbog lang naman ako dun, modeled for a travel mag, acted deaf and mute because I didn't like my date, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera... Told you I was a mental case.:-D