meet and greet with iseecallai

I see you in my dreams. You are that little silhouette in the dark. Yet you are also the bright figure in the light. And although I always see you, you are always unknown.
I never fail to ask for your name, in order to search for you in the real world perhaps. But you always, always say, “Tomorrow. Tomorrow, dearest. Always tomorrow.” Ever so gently, you brush my hair with your hand and kiss me on the lips. That’s when I know you’ll leave me. That’s when I know I’ll wake up.
Sometimes I wake up near tears. Most times, there is that bittersweet smile on my face. I know I’ll see you again tonight. I just have to get by the day not knowing you.
The only thing that makes me survive is that I know, someday, I’ll be the princess and you’ll be my prince. And when that day comes, the light will be striking us both. By that day, I’ll see your face and you’ll tell me, “Tomorrow is here, my dearest. It’s time you know my name.”
Until then, I’m waiting for the spotlight.

(End)

30 July 2009

14 October 2007
It was a clear night sky. We were lying flat on your roof and figuring out the constellations. The wind, cool but not chilly, was softly blowing, making the chimes on your window tinkle. It was perfect. Silent, but not too silent.
I was happy. It was simple bliss. I moved to my side and rested my head on my arm so I can see you. “I’m really glad we’re friends. Why didn’t we become close before?”
You smiled, still staring at the sky, and replied, “We are just like two stars, I guess. We never really realized how much of the same thing we are until now. That’s why there are falling stars, you know. They’re not falling just for the thrill of it. They fall to be closer to another star. And I think they succeed. Much like we did.” You turned your gaze at me and reached for my hand.
I lay down again and spotted a shooting star in the night sky. “I hope it will always be like this.”

9 December 2007
It was a night when stars fall, our kind of night. With bottles of beer in tow, we went to my backyard where hammocks were set up for our night of wish exhaustion. Thousands of shooting stars were expected to be seen tonight.
The nature’s chorus was alive — the leaves were rustling, the crickets were keeping in tune and the trees were creaking at just the right moments. We were both humming along.
It was then that I realized. We really have become best of friends.

04 March 2008
The stars have stayed in their places, I guess.
It has been too long since we last viewed the stars together. Maybe that’s the reason why nature has its new melody. We weren’t there to keep up with it anymore. Maybe that’s why there are no more falling stars.
You told me that a star chooses to fall to be closer to another. Maybe that’s where we went wrong; we both started to go to each other’s direction that we missed then resolved to stay in place instead?

05 August 2008
Empty. The skies are empty tonight. They have been for a long while now. Where are you? I miss the stars. I miss talking to my friend…

17 September 2008
Stars have died in space before, and I suppose friendships do too.
When stars die, do the others mourn for them? When friendships dissolve in time, do both parties cry? Or is the star alone? Am i?

27 October 2008
Stars have never shone as brightly as when you held my hand and we were gazing at the night sky. How could we let go of such an amazing scene? How could we let ourselves be engulfed in darkness when we know we can walk hand in hand in illumination? How can we let go of each other?
Questions.

11 December 2008
A single star shone tonight. It seemed to be a signal for something good. And it was.
Tonight we shared a meal with friends. And between the two of us, I felt the awkwardness before it came; I foresaw the silence before it was heard. But even if this were the case, I refuse to believe that you’ve changed.
I know somewhere inside you is the dear friend I’ve had. I know somewhere inside your heart is the girl who believed that stars fall.

25 January 2009
Stars have stayed in their places for a very long time. I think it’s time stars start falling once more.
And this time we’ll do it right. This time I’ll fall.
A star falls to be closer to another star. And I think they succeed. Much like we will again.

(End)

-July 25, 2009-

Discarded Memories and Persistent Letters

Tearstains cover the letter she was holding. The writing was smudged and the letter edges blotted. Not knowing what to expect from it, she just continued to gaze at it. Staring at the stains, smudges and blots but not really reading through the lines.
The stains mean the writer was crying while inscribing his thoughts. The smudges signify shaking while composing the letter. The blots mean uncontrolled pressure. The letter seemed like a bomb waiting to explode at just the right moment. Waiting for the pin to be pulled perhaps.
She sensed desperation in the paper. She wanted to read it, thoroughly and fast, but there’s something stopping her. She felt the need to read it and the want was pressing her eyes to look at the letter properly. But she didn’t want to… She can’t make herself. She doesn’t want to remember the what if’s and what should have been’s. Not anymore.
She fixed her eyes instead on the back of the leaving postman, not wanting to have anything to do with the paper in her hands. But the memories came unstopped. They surged through her brain without consideration of what she would feel.

She heard a sound from the top of the stairs. She looked up and thought, “Trapped!”
Both of them were standing very still and looking at each other. She didn’t want to be the first one to talk and she didn’t expect him to, but she doesn’t want to lower her eyes too.
“Remember the day I said I love you?” he suddenly asked. “That is the day I also said goodbye. And you didn’t do anything about it.”
She kept quiet. She suddenly wanted the earth to swallow her whole. His eyes were misty but stern. They were piercing through her very self. She can’t handle those eyes, so she gave all her attention to the floor.
Hearing no answer from her, he stoically walked down. “Why?”
Heart thumping and body trembling, she raised her eyes and said, “Because I thought that was what you wanted. I though you wanted out.”
He was already on her step, but remained taciturn. She proceeded, “They say that if you love someone, set him free. I did. And if he comes back, he’s yours.” She reached for his hand and felt no resistance. “Are you coming back? Are you mine?”
He shook his head, as if in resignation. She gave up and almost walked away. Then suddenly, he hugged her tight, tipped her head high and brushed her ear. “Yes. I’m yours. There and then. Here and now.”
She cried in accidental bliss.

They were happy once. Having been together since their third year in high school, they lasted more than other married couples. They have borne witness to each other’s problems and triumphs, and even after many fights and misunderstandings they stood by each other and were still there to support.
Perhaps that was enough for her to read the letter. Maybe it should be a one last time thing. Just like that text message.

In the middle of the night, she texted, “Hey. They’re playing our song.” Yes, she wasn’t expecting any response considering the time and the situation. But at the back of her mind she knows that she yearns for a reply, even if it will be tomorrow.
After texting she switched the player to the next song. The song brought back too many emotions that were long forgotten and filed in one of the cabinets in her brain purposely labeled ‘Discarded Memories’.

She looked again at the letter she was holding. She sighs. She better get this over with. The sooner she reads this, the sooner it will be finished, and the sooner she will experience calm again. Even if she wanted to throw it out and just escape to the simple dream that there was never a “we”, she can’t for she knows that another will come in a few days if she doesn’t respond.
She sits in the swing chair in the patio and reads.

She was in the far end of the beach to rest her heavy heart and to seek refuge from the stifling atmosphere of the city and the burning pressure in her mind. She was looking at the horizon where flashes of orange, yellow and red reflect in the shimmering waters of the ocean.
The beach house was a gift from an uncle during their wedding day. He said that the house was once a testimony of his love for his late wife and hopes that it would hold the same for them. But now, as she gazes at the house and then back to the horizon, it is nothing more than a beautifully made building filled with nothing, no good memories or bad memories. It is just a house.
Thinking aloud, she said, “I thought with love anything is possible. If I love him, and he loves me, everything and everybody would be tolerable…” She bowed her head. “Well, it was. Everything and everybody else but us were okay. Us? Not anymore…”
She picked up a pebble from the shore and threw it to the ocean as she shouted, “But we still love each other. That makes this so complicated!”

The letter read:

My dearest, dearest Lily,

Attached is the final copy our divorce papers. I have signed all lines for me and it is only waiting for your signature for the divorce to be final.
I am very sorry that we have come to this point. I was just as sure as you were that our marriage would be a living testament of how true love survives to our friends, children and grandchildren. But I suppose we both have reached the end of the line of patience and understanding, acceptance and deference.
It never occurred to me that the day we would finally achieve the necessary fearlessness to say I love you repeatedly would also be the day that we realize how unfit we are for each other. Since then, every single time we say “I love you” to each other, we would feel that small twinge in our hearts saying that our love doesn’t make us happy anymore.
I thought that the love we feel for each other would be endless; that we will be able to handle every issue thrown to you, to me, and to us; that we will be able to deal with the difference of how we treat our lives and with the changes of everybody around us. I thought. And no matter how hard it was, we did. But we never learned to deal with ‘us’. No marriage counselor, friends or relatives can make us handle the problems between us. And I say it once again, we aren’t happy with each other anymore…
I know that you wish that we were never together to spare you of the heartache it brings now. I know your opinion on hell after heaven. I wish I could agree with you on that, but dearest, I am happy we were once a couple. I felt that I had found ‘me’ in another person. If anything else, that makes it all worthwhile. I hope you realize that too.
I tell you that I love you, and I truly do. I know you still love me too. There is no need to say these a thousand times. But I guess this is it—the inevitable goodbye.

For the last time,
Your loving husband,
Garth

She drops the letter, dazed and speechless at its contents. It was all true—their hopes and dreams of growing old together, the intolerance now, them giving up on each other, and most of all, the love they still have. If anything else, she feels remorse over that. For how could they still love each other truly and tremendously and yet they cannot stand each other? She loves him and he loves her, but why can’t they endure to live with each other? They tried a lot of times to patch things up, to try things out again. But to no avail.
They are in an old house in the mountains. The smell of pine emanates from the surrounding trees. The sound of crickets chirping is heard in the air. The hardwood floor and walls give a feeling of simple coziness. The seats on the right are hand carved, shaped along the natural contours of the trees they were from.
On top of the seats are pillows covered by hand-woven fabric of colors red, white and black. On their left is an open door curtained with beads. Set on the walls were black and white photos of the family. Fresh poppies and daisies are displayed in the center table. Several letters are on the counter. Simple coziness.
The hammock in the porch invites them out. From there, they see the sun reflected in the waters. Both are enthralled by the way the light strikes the lake. The orange, red, and yellow lights of the sun are dispersed in the water. Ripples cause the light to as if grow, making the lake seem to be a golden one.
She casually leans back to his body. He embraces her from behind. Slowly, as the sun finally does set, all the troubles they brought with them are forgotten. And a new beginning is found.
That was one of the few times that they lived amiably with each other in the latter years. Nine times out of ten instances they were not fine.
It seems like decades ago when she would drop everything and anybody just for him. But now, she needs urging to do the things she would have preciously have loved to perform in just a flick of a finger. In fact, the time that seems like decades is just several years. In a mere six years of married life, all things weren’t what they were before. Her love, her passion, and her self-sacrifice for him are all gone. She never wanted the outlook she had over him to alter in any way possible. She never wanted it to change because it would revolutionize every emotion she has had for everyone and everything, be it an individual, group, event, or place. Now, she has a lot of things to consider, and re-consider, and understand. And she simply does not have the energy to deal with all that right now…
She sighs and signs over the few dotted lines in the divorce document and sent it back with a single sentence note.

I love you.

Tears fall from her misty eye
Untold memories made her cry
Feeling of hurt, of pain and sorrow
Led her to think there would be no tomorrow

Eyes that say, “please talk to me,
I’ve got problems can’t you see?”
She wants to sob , to shout and wail,
But she can’t, the ship of feelings just won’t sail.

She’s afraid to let her emotions go
It’s a pretty big thing to show.
She just can’t afford to be hurt again.
And so she keeps them for another day or ten.

She’s still there under the cloudy sky
Waiting for a day that’ll make her sigh,
And tell the world that she’s now happy
Everything’s fine, don’t worry.

Sunken Garden
December 11, 2006

as the wind passes thru my body,

a chill passes thru my very soul…

as the leaves flutter around me,

mem’ries come a tingling by…

as i look up to the sky,

impulse and instinct stop me…

as the darkness envelopes me,

realizations set me free…

28 July 2007

23:27:32

Your view on yourself:

Other people find you very interesting, but you are really hiding your true self. Your friends love you because you are a good listener. They’ll probably still love you if you learn to be yourself with them.

—> A text message I made a long time ago: ”My personality is scaring me a little, and exciting me too. I’m friends with a lot of people. Yes, friends. The kind that invite me out once in a while. But really, do I tell them anything? Do they know remotely anything that’s happening in my life lately? I’m living a life with a big bubble surrounding me — protecting me from anything and guarding my life from them. Nobody is allowed in. Scaringly exciting.

The type of girlfriend/boyfriend you are looking for:

You are a true romantic. When you are in love, you will do anything and everything to keep your love true.

—> A friend once said that I belong to a perfect combination of friends for somebody who has lovelife problems. A cynic, a realist, a crying shoulder… And of course, the idealist. (Bow)

Your readiness to commit to a relationship:

You are ready to commit as soon as you meet the right person. And you believe you will pretty much know as soon as you meet that person.

—> Love at first sight? Perhaps not, but when I get to know him, I’ll know.

The seriousness of your love:

You like to flirt and behave seductively. The opposite sex finds this very attractive, and that’s why you’ll always have admirers hanging off your arms. But how serious are you about choosing someone to be in a relationship with?

—> Errrrr. I like to flirt? And I have admirers hanging off my arms? Errrrr? 

Your views on education

Education is very important in life. You want to study hard and learn as much as you can.

—> I hate schooling, but education in general is great.

The right job for you:

You have many goals and want to achieve as much as you can. The jobs you enjoy are those that let you burn off your considerable excess energy.

—> I reached the point where I can’t say “No” to anything people give me to do. Yeah, it did burn off my CONSIDERABLE excess energy.

How do you view success:

You are afraid of failure and scared to have a go at the career you would like to have in case you don’t succeed. Don’t give up when you haven’t yet even started! Be courageous.

—> A text message from the past: “The only thing I really fear is failing somebody important. It doesn’t matter if it’s just as simple as keeping a promise to passing a requirement. I hate failing. And given that, I’m not the type who will enter something knowing that at the end I just might fail.”

What are you most afraid of:

You are afraid of having no one to rely on in times of trouble. You don’t ever want to be unable to take care of yourself. Independence is important to you.

—> I love independence, but in never hurts to have friends to talk to. 

Who is your true self:

You are full of energy and confidence. You are unpredictable, with moods changing as quickly as an ocean. You might occasionally be calm and still, but never for long.

Credits:

http://www.quizbox.com/personality/test82.aspx

“The most important things are the hardest things to say. They are the things you get ashamed of, because words diminish them–words shrink things that seemed limitless when they were in your head to no more than living size when they’re brought out. But it’s more than that, isn’t it? The most important things lie too close to wherever your secret heart is buried, like landmarks to a treasure your enemies would love to steal away. And you may make revelations that cost you dearly only to have people look at you in a funny way, not understanding what you’ve said at all, or why you thought it was so important that you almost cried while you were saying it. That’s the worst, I think. When the secret stays locked within not for want of a teller but for want of an understanding ear.”

-The Body
Different Season
By Stephen King

I hate it when I say “I love you,” and yet I don’t get any response from you. Don’t you know how hear those three words are uttered or texted? I know you know because you said that you could actually count the number of times you said those words. But just a response? Just a simple response. I don’t say those words like “snap”. There’s a story before it.

I hate it when I do my ultimate best to please you, but at the end of each day I don’t receive any “hey, good job!” or “excellent work!” or “you seem happy doing these.” or even just a simple pat on the shoulders. They say that you know me too well that you don’t need to say that you’re proud. But sometimes it really, really helps if you tell me that you appreciate all the efforts I’m giving.

I hate it when you don’t reply to my text messages. Forwarded quotes are okay not to reply to, but messages with your name specified in it requires a response. Oh yes, even if it’s already five hours after. It’s not like I just text you specifically out of nowhere. It means that I want to talk to you and yes, it’s kind of important.

I hate it when you don’t talk to me, even if we’re at the same party, or at the same room. It pains me to see us together but not really together. I get jealous of all the other people you talk to. And when I see you laughing with them, I just want to walk out of the room.

I hate it when I set a date and time for an anything, but you would cancel on me on the last minute without even any consideration of the exerted effort to fit you in my oh-too-busy schedule too. Sometimes people could be so inconsiderate that they fail to realize that they are not the only ones who are actually busy. We all are, but the thing is that we have to make time for every single event in our lives. We can’t just let something pass just like that.

During a performance last May 9 in SM Baguio, Candy Pangilinan, a comedian, said twice: “Tao po ako, hindi po ako Igorot (I am human, not an Igorot.).”

This statement was reminiscent of a sentence in Carlos P. Romulo’s book “Mother America,” published on 1943 in Garden City, New York by Doubleday, Doran & Co. Romulo wrote on page 53, “The fact remains that the Igorot is not Filipino and we are not related, and it hurts our feelings to see him pictured in American newspapers under such captions as ‘Typical Filipino Tribesman.’” In response, Carlos Romulo’s effigy, including several copies of the said book, were burned in Baguio’s Malcolm Square. Igorots also organized a mass demonstration to show their ire. In the end, Carlos P. Romulo apologized and clarified his reason for writing.

What has Carlos P. Romulo done? He has stripped the Igorots of our citizenship. What is more that than? Stripping us of our humanity. This, more than anything, is what Candy Pangilinan did.

Does Candy Pangilinan imply that Igorots are not human? Using the lessons learned from her Philosophy 11 class, a friend proved that this is certainly what Candy Pangilinan implied.

1. H • ~I / ~I → H ( I am Human (H) and I am not an Igorot (~I)

2. H                      1, Simplification

3. H v I                2, Addition

4. I v H                3, Commutation

5. ~~I v H           4, Double Negation

6. ~I → H           5, Implication

(If I am not an Igorot, then I am human.)

Checked and double checked. Any philosophy student would say that this in fact what is implied.

I cannot believe that at this day and age, when discrimination is frowned upon and equality is promoted, there are still those who commit racial slurs. And what is more, we Filipinos raised hell when on one episode of Desperate Housewives, Susan she replied to her gynecologist, “Can I just check those diplomas because I just want to make sure that they are not from some med school in the Philippines.” We reacted strongly against the racial discrimination. But how come here in our own country, there are still some of us who do the same, and in a very public show too. We simply cannot allow this.

I cannot believe that at this day and age, when discrimination is frowned upon and equality is promoted, there are still those who commit racial slurs. Even if occupation calls upon a person to make jokes, it is never good to bring about laughter at someone’s expense. There are jokes that are better left unsaid. There are jokes that are not in any way funny. There are jokes that are not in good taste. This is certainly one of them.

I cannot believe that at this day and age, when discrimination is frowned upon and equality is promoted, there are still those who commit racial slurs. This blog, if anything else, tells how angered I am by Candy Pangilinan’s statement. This blog, if anything else, tells how human I, an Igorot, am. How dare anybody question that.

I AM AN IGOROT, AND PROUD TO BE ONE.

And just as Carlos P. Romulo, UN Security Council Chairman and Pulitzer Prize winner, apologized to the Igorots, Candy Pangilinan apologized in national television and in her various blogs to the Igorot community.

In her Multiply blog (http://candiva.multiply.com/journal/item/101), I commented:

“I am an IGOROT and PROUD to be one.
And although you say that it was an honest mistake. Saying the statement “Tao po ako, Hindi po ako Igorot.” TWICE makes it seem like it wasn’t.
And although you apologized, the mistake has caused the multitude of Igorots to feel that you looked down on our culture, nay, not only our culture but our entire humanity.
But straightforwardman is right, “Yes, we get hurt, we get offended. We fight for our rights, but, we also know how to forgive.”
With what you said I remember a part of Shylock’s little speech in Merchant of Venice.

“If you prick us, do we not bleed?
If you tickle us, do we not laugh?
If you poison us, do we not die?”

We, IGOROTS, are humans like you in the most similar way you can imagine.”

I AM AN IGOROT, AND PROUD TO BE ONE.

References:

http://www.baguiocityonline.com/daforum/viewtopic.php?id=7100&action=new
http://sandati.com/the-igorot-is-not-filipino-carlos-p-romulo/
http://books.google.com/books?id=ZHO8yje7UpAC&pg=PA180&lpg=PA180&dq=Carlos+Romulo+Igorot&source=bl&ots=5g9N9hpLWM&sig=ipqBtitjx5wGLcKjjG2T1_uJAm4&hl=en&ei=o1gMSsqlFYOHkQW-_NG0BA&sa=X&oi=book_result&ct=result&resnum=5#PPA189,M1
http://chytdaytec.multiply.com/journal/item/59/MARKY_CIELO_THE_BOY_WHO_REAWAKENED_IGOROT_CONSCIOUSNESS
http://skirmisher.org/bullshit-meister/in-response-to-a-highlanders-hispanophobia-a-postscript-to-el-mes-espanol/
http://michellemalkin.com/2007/10/03/desperate-housewives-insults-filipinos/
http://candiva.multiply.com/journal/item/101

This morning, in my Philosophy class, we were talking about John Stuart Mill’s theory on Utilitarianism. As always, I wasn’t really listening. I was reading The Mammoth Hunters by Jean Auel. But the topic on Act Utilitarianism and Rule Utilitarianism caught my attention. Yes, I may be talking in another language here but believe me, it’ll be clear in a bit.

I’ll explain according to my understanding of the two types of utilitarianism of ethics. 

Act Utilitarianism judges the goodness of an act based on the event of happiness caused by the act.

Rule Utilitarianism evaluates the act in a way that it asks, “what if such an act is done every time that event occurs?” It assumes that the act is the rule in that event.

Why did I suddenly have a strong interest in this? It caught my attention because of a revelation I just knew the night before. And because of this, I’m making it an example of Act Utilitarianism vs. Rule Utilitarianism.

Act Utilitarianism. Not telling a friend an embarrassing secret about her. This with the motive that she not knowing would cause her less pain and thus more happiness. It would not make things awkward. It would then make her enjoy her life more.

Rule Utilitarianism. An the same example as above, a rule utilitarian would argue that it is more appropriate to tell the secret. Because in the end, it would make her sadder in event that she know about it. And if it were the case that a friend didn’t tell her about the secret on the first realistic and opportunistic moment, could you ever trust that particular friend again in telling you rumors about you? In that sense, is he/she even considered a friend?