Y Speak? Why NOT Speak? (part 2)

I Like Your Top

“Hi.” With an expectant smile I was so ready to launch into an engaging conversation. And he didn’t hear me, or pretended to not hear. Either way, I felt embarrassed. “I like your top.” It was my attempt to find out if he’s really trying to not talk to me or he didn’t really hear.

“Thanks.” That’s all he said and he immediately looked away. Great. He thinks I’m a freak who’s dropping a pickup line in the most romantic place, ABS CBN’s Audience Entrance. The thing is, I really liked his top, besides the fact that he’s real cute and that he looked so innocently yummy. I continued to talk to my newfound PUP acquaintances while deliberately talking a li’l louder for him to hear. It wouldn’t hurt to let him know that I’m from UP, maybe he’ll start to pay attention. And he did, it never fails. “What do you think are they gonna make us do?” I felt triumphant.

I looked at him, smiled and raised one of my brows. “Well, I’m not really sure but some people told me that we might be debating on a topic, Y Speak style. But that’s a rumor.” I faced him and began to give him my full attention.

He looked uncomfortable, “Ah, Di ba malaki sakin un top ko? Di ba parang pang matanda? “ then he began to fix his top and looked at me like a kid.

“Di naman, how old are you anyway? It looks good on you, where dya buy it?” I dunno if he just wanted me to repeat the compliment or he’s just not happy with his clothes. After much assurance, we finally conversed my way. I found out that he came from Dubai, and that he’s taking up Political Science in UP Dil, he’s 17 years old, name’s Richard. Young. Then we agreed that a correspondent shouldn’t alienate himself by trying too hard to be profound. We also agreed that it’s more of the entertainment value of a point that’s more important. We know a lot of the student guests of Y Speak and we felt like nobody really listened even if they made very good points because they didn’t deliver it attention-grabbing enough. We talked about law school, our courses, being and not being an activist, blahblahblah.. then, the line moved and we had to part ways. Goodbye hottie, hello boredom.

Follow Me and Everything is Alright

I met a group of entertaining people, a barkada nice enough to adopt me for a few minutes while I was trying to figure out who to talk to and who to hangout with while I was waiting. They live near my place and they remind me of my high school friends, carefree while talking about the things that I don’t allow myself to discuss anymore. They remind me of how I would be contented to just laugh without being intellectual. I don’t know if I like that part of me now, I’d like to think I developed more sense, more profundity. It seemed to easy to please them, and for a second I missed being shallow. Just when I thought I would be stuck with them, I noticed someone who wasn’t talking. He was, like me, alone. I remember my first words to be, “Kamusta ka naman diyan?” and he just smiled. But I didn’t feel disheartened, most of the people I try to establish a conversation with react that way. They feel shy, uncomfortable with the idea of a woman stranger making the “first move”. I found out that his name’s Floi Wycoco, he was nice enough to be my involuntary companion. He didn’t have a choice, he was next in line with me. Haha,, a 19 year old Thomasian taking up Asian Studies. I was like, “ So what do you study in Asian Studies? Is it like 2nd year high school history?” he finally felt at ease with me. We looked at the very long line of applicants and decided to be friends.

--- to be continued --

Y Speak? Why NOT Speak?

If there’s one thing that I’m very proud of about myself, it’s my ability to follow my dreams and achieve them if I really put my mind (ok, and heart) into it. Last Thursday, I did something for myself, at first it seemed like a stupid idea, it seemed like no one’s taking me seriously but my passion for it dominated my fears. I auditioned in ABS CBN to be a Y Speak! Correspondent. You can laugh now , I know you’re giving me a very weird look. It’s ok, it’s what my Mom gave me when I nonchalantly uttered my announcement, “ Pupunta ko sa ABS sa Thursday, naghahanap sila ng correspondent for Y Speak.” She laughed. I didn’t, and she realized that her daughter’s seriously contemplating in being on TV. For me, it’s inevitable. If there’s something that I’m sure I’m good at, it’s being the center of attention. I love the attention, may it be positive or negative. I love being talked about, I love being watched. In fact, I think I’ll be one of those people who’ll love being stalked. PSYCHO. It’s a craving I never outgrew. I would always look back at the time when I joined Little Ms. SM and won, I would always think of what might have been if my parents allowed me to continue to be in showbusiness, maybe I wouldn’t be in UP Diliman studying Economics but I’ll be one of the many Star Circle artists. Maybe, but that’s fiction.

Should I Stay or Should I Go?

So there, until the morning of Thursday, I was very hesitant of going to the audition. I didn’t have anyone to go with me, I didn’t know how to commute going to ABS CBN and I wasn’t sure if a fat and ordinary-looking not-a-girl-not-yet-a-woman would be appropriate for the role. Am I TV material? Am I eloquent enough? And the biggest question was, could I actually get out of my bed now and turn my back at the idea of just relaxing the whole day at home? Well, to make the long and boring story short, I did. I wore my pink shining-shimmering Buffalo stariray pants, my white look-at-me-and-please-do-take-me-seriously long sleeves and my maong I’m-not-that-dressed-up-buti-na-lang-fashion-is-my-life trench coat with of course, my pink and white don’t-you-dare-think-I’m-here-to-just-play mules. It was the best I could do, if I’m gonna flunk the audition, at least I have to look good. Finally, I dragged my ass out of my house and then… Rain poured like it was just waiting for me to decide before it thoroughly dampen my mood. Very good sign, you know what they say about rain = blessing. I had to dwell in that concept or else I would’ve headed back home. When I arrived in Megamall, I found out that another very unfortunate thing has befallen me. I stained my pants, I leaked. RED ALERT. DUGO. Blood. S-H-I-T. It was like neon signs were all over the place with the words. “Go HOME Eunice, you’re so not gonna qualify for the job.” I felt so fucked, so betrayed by my own blood. It was nature’s way to mock me for having too much faith. But then again, I’m one stubborn biatch. Nature wants to play, then I will play. I couldn’t take the stain off completely but wadda heck, kekerihin ko ito!

Almost There But Not Really

I rode the MRT and decided to take the cab from the Quezon Ave. station, I had no idea how to get there. I was just too glad that my cab driver knows his way around Kyusi, finally, I thought. Things are looking pretty ok. Great, when I got in the cab, it seemed like the driver seriously assumed that I work for ABS but when I made him drop me at the audience entrance, I think he dismissed me to be one of those MTB groupies who just dresses well. Then things began to fall into place, first, I made the right decision to make the cab drop me off at the audience entrance. When I asked the security guard where the Y Speak thing is, he pointed at a very long line of all kinds of YOUTH. He said something which made me feel good, “Ito na ang pambato, mukhang magaling.” I was flattered. I don’t care if he was just being sarcastic, still. I looked around and a lot of them are checking me out, not in a hooking up kind of way (I rarely get checked out nowadays), they were trying to weigh if I was part of the tough competition. Most of them came with their friends, but it wasn’t like I was petrified, not even intimidated, in fact I felt more powerful. I got strength from the fact that I went there alone, without anyone convincing me to go, and it says a lot about how much I wanted to be there. The usual outgoing me emerged, I began to talk to everyone around. When I went there alone, I didn’t intend to wait for my turn in silence. I met a bunch of PUP students, most of them are Mass Comm studes, younger than me and they were very friendly. I was glad. Then my HOTTIE RADAR alarmed. I said to myself, “ This is beginning to be more interesting than I expected.”

--- to be continued ---

Tale of the Runny Nose, Loose Bowel Movement and Achy Breaky Heart

I’m a very healthy person, I rarely get sick and sometimes it bothers me. When I get sick, it only lasts for a few hours and then it’s gone, so when I excuse myself let’s say, from school or from a meeting and give my being sick as an excuse, I feel that no one believes me. It bothers me because I feel that it isn’t normal not to have even a mild fever from time to time. But what I found out this Christmas vacation is that my body gets sick in a “one time, big time” kind of way. When I whine about not getting sick (atoy knows this) I didn’t have a getting-sick-during-vacation scenario in mind. Well, it happened. I suffered from a humiliating runny nose for weeks and during New Year’s eve, I had diarrhea, to top it all off, I had a mild fever until today.… err, talk about a bummer!

Fate is really cruel to me. Fate loves to just knock me off my feet but not in a positive kind of way. I am not a morning person, at least not after summer (when I would always wake up at 5 in the morning, thanks to my movie buddy Anthony). So, when I decided to wake up early to go online to listen to Joe Schmoe’s ( 99.5 RT’s dj) goodbye show, I was in a very good mood. After the show I went online. SUPRPISE, SURPRISE.. Two of the men in my past went online. I didn’t know what I was supposed to think, whether it’s funny, lucky or unfortunate for me. For a split second, I thought of ducking out of the way (paranoid, paranoid). Thanks to the Yahoo Messenger, they didn’t have any idea how nerve-wracking it was for me. I said hi to both of them and yes, we all get along just fine. As usual, I never really made them see that at one point or another they caused me so much pain. I do acknowledge the fact that although they played major parts in my emotional rollercoasters but a greater part of my pain is self-inflicted. I made them turn away. I’m very talented in that area. Our conversations weren’t really as deep as it used to be. It’s the kind of conversation that you get after people fall out of love, the “hi-how are you-are you seeing someone now” conversation. My answer was the expected, “hello there - I am doing great – I’m not formally seeing anyone” cliché. It’s partly true, I’m really doing ok, in fact I don’t wallow in a corner and think about them, out of sight out of mind. And yes, I am not formally seeing anyone, not even informally seeing anyone. I AM NOT SEEING ANYONE, PERIOD. It hurts me, oh no scratch that, I resent the idea that they are seeing someone and that they found someone better than me while I have no one. STORY OF MY LIFE.

Someone asked me what happened to Mr. Out of My League, well, first and foremost I just wanna make it clear that he’s out of my league not because he’s drop dead gorgeous or really intelligent or filthy rich (please, I wouldn’t accept defeat if it’s just that) but because he is not into women. Yup, he’s gay. We can only be secret lovers – yeah, I did watch So Happy Together – I am a bonafide Drama Queen. I know, I know.. it’s funny. I smile too when the idea hits me.

According to my friend Paloys, someone who doesn’t regret anything is either living an unexamined life or is delusional. I guess I am, uhm.. Delusional. Har, har.. it’s his reaction to my YM Status Message, “Je ne regrette rien.” When I say I don’t regret anything, it’s actually a combination of not regretting the things that happened by accepting that they can never be reversed. It’s acceptance, it’s admitting that although we wanted something different, we can adjust to what happened and reformat our life plan. It’s 2005, I hope this year’ll rock not only for me but for everyone. I still have faith after all, just like everyone else, I still believe that if you hit rock bottom, you have a choice. It’s either you’ll dig deeper or you’ll tell yourself you’ve had enough and find your way back to the top. I love being on top (winks).

--- I wanna thank my new found dearie / kapwa-may-sayad Atenista friend /snake charmer / yummy guy Sam. I’m deeply flattered when you said that I give the smartest answers all the time, thanks for saying that out of nowhere. Apir! I should start believing that myself. Hehe,, you’re a sweetie. Kung benta ako sa’yo, edi benta ka rin sa’kin. Say hi to your Paragon Plaza gay stalker for me, I think you should give him a chance. Just kiddin bro.

Out of My League

I’m in a crisis. I think I’m falling for someone who’s totally out of my league. Lately, I’ve been finding myself looking for ways to spend more time with this guy. This isn’t your ordinary falling for the guy story. This is the Give-it-to-Eunice-to-find-ways-to-screw-things-up story. Why is he out of my league? Let’s just say his interests don’t in any way involve me. I can’t believe I’m actually putting this into writing, this will definitely screw things up if he finds out. What am I thinking? I can’t let another friendship get ruined because of my stupid preferences for men. I cannot make this happen. I cannot acknowledge this stupid admiration. 

Let’s see, this isn’t the first time that I’ve been infatuated with men who will never be interested in me, I just don’t admit them openly. For example, this writer guy I’ve been admiring made me go to Powerbooks daily just to indulge in the idea that we might bump into each other. We had a promising beginning, I mean we conversed really well. But hey, he’s almost perfect. He’s gorgeous, intelligent, funny and popular. I am uh, popular at times, smart at times but gorgeous? Err, at times. (Nge.)

I don’t know if this is a good idea. Must find someone else to crush on, or I will end up losing a very dear buddy. STOP, STOP. STOP.

Surprise! I MOVED ON..

Sometimes, it’s your friends -- or in my case the people around me—who can’t move on. Well, we can’t really blame them. Taking into consideration every little ranting they had to endure while I was “allegedly in love” with Basketball Guy, (Yeah, he’s not “he-who-must-not-be-remembered” anymore) it must be really hard for them to believe that I have seamlessly moved on. How can I possibly forget him that easily after writing such a heartfelt (by heartfelt I mean, over the top, cheesier than the cheesiest letter, almost stalker-like) letter? Oh well, my fault. So, in the spirit of pure fun, lemme enumerate the things that can validate the claim of the “once-in-love” that they have really left the past behind.

1. You can say his name once again without turning the situation into a SOAP OPERA MOMENT. A soap opera moment involves the looking away while staring at emptiness and showing a grim smile action.
2. You can look at all your pictures together –unless you have burned, torn or if it’s digital, deleted everything – without feeling the urge to guess what, BURN, TEAR or DELETE it. Or without imagining him with yellow teeth, nose hair or uhmm, body odor.
3. You begin to do the things you tried doing to further endear you to him but this time, because you really want to do them. e.g. being sporty, staying at home, going to prayer meetings, dressing down or losing weight. 
4. You can sing the songs that remind you of his past existence and influence in your life. These are the songs you vowed not to sing again, the songs you have convinced yourself to be irrelevant to your present life. It may be romantic or plain related to any memory you have with him. e.g. Parokya ni Edgar’s Yes,Yes Show because you sang it together at MTV’s Mic Mo ‘to or Sugarfree’s Mariposa because you thought that he purposely sang the “ayoko na mag-isa” part for you to hear.
5. You start talking to his friends again after suffering the humiliation of being dumped. You swore that you won’t have anything to do with them because you were so sure that he said bad things about you while hanging out at some rest house beside the pool. You admit that you might be overreacting. But you will still exert extra effort to prove these [imaginary] bad things he said wrong.
6. You stop relating his name to your past pseudo romantic [mis]adventures to prove that it must be one reason why it never worked out. e.g. Arthur Gabriel -> Angelo Gutierrez.. both A.G. Then it continues to Arthur – Angelo – Anthony. I won’t date anyone whose name starts with “A” again.. or uhmm, Angelo – Christian (wont date anyone whose name is in a way religious) P-A-T-H-E-T-I-C.
7. You stop deleting his name in your phonebook or in your address book to no avail because you know that you know his number or his email address by heart.
8. You stop checking out his profile while comparing yourself to the woman who’s with him in his uploaded pictures and while secretly hoping that like you, he’s also single and looking. Or, you stop posting all these messages in the Bulletin Board secretly wishing that he’ll read it and realize that he’s a prick for letting you go.
9. You start dating men without thinking of how your ex’ll react to seeing you with that other guy. You don’t date new guys just so you’ll have an accessory to your highly- anticipated plot of revenge against him for breaking your heart.
10. Lastly, your recent journal entries do not in any way include his name. There are no “I’m-so-over-him” articles like this and there are no “I-can’t-believe-I-was-in-love” rantings.

Oh shit.

Misery

White walls, air from a desk fan, music from the radio,
A personal computer’s beep, the telephone’s dial tone,
The aroma of a cup of coffee, a cd rack, picture frames
Everything’s perfect and I’m not part of everything.

Verticality

The skies are clear, clouds aren’t crying. I was one minute relaxing when I found myself falling. I can’t help but  imagine how I can finally be one with the corals strong enough to provide shelter to my seemingly helpless existence. I’m slowly appreciating the façade that I made to stubbornly linger. From the violent currents, soft waves and cold breeze, I’m gliding and riding. Birds are chirping and distracting. I’m hearing schools of fish weep while patiently waiting. I’m like an angel falling.

This is a dance, I’m floating and just enjoying the rhythm.

There is No Conflict

Some activists love some economists because they
have the same ideals. Never would they
stay in their air-conditioned rooms,
shut their mouths about the
fight for greater state subsidy, wage hikes and unfeasible proposals expressed through pat-
riotic chants, passionate jingles, prop-
hetic rantings and passionate cries. ‘Wag Matakot! Makibaka!
Contrary to popular belief there is no conflict between them
Some economists love some activists because
whenever it’s time to sit down and talk
they’d rather rally in Mendiola, wearing red shirts every single day without
thinking of themselves.
Thoroughly analyzing the negative effects of such actions.
More people love activists because
they are more visible,thus demonstrating
in their humble ways
how more concerned they are than economists who exude apathy,
who are more anxious of their own welfare,
thinking of how they can make noise by capitalizing on mere theories
by not being open to the other side of the story.
There is
no
tension between them, there will
never
be a serious misunderstanding, because despite the-
fact that their ideas may clash, in the end, the-
ir common interests on achieving the betterment of the majority
will result to more stability and less
confusion will be manifested.I say, let things be.
What is life without a little tension?
We are all Filipinos,
to hell with the Fiscal crisis, to hell with the economic collapse,
to hell with differences in beliefs, to hell with the internal turmoil,
it’s time that we become more laid back,
forget about our problems, let’s
not even attempt to
continue fighting together for our future.
Whatis there to save anyway?
will we lose? That I don’t know.
I think we’re good losers. Don’t ask me. Why
are we in this together?
We’re Filipinos.
We’re Filipinos, that I’m sure of. There is
Mutual respect between Economists and activists. There is no
Conflict! it’s an old issue.
Parang issue ng alin ang nauna, itlog ba o manok?
We’ve got a bunch of newer concerns
but like the archive of the all-time fave issues
it’s never resolved, just pondered upon.

Natural!

“Gusto mo ba magkaanak?” My friend Atoy asked while munching on his Quarter Pounder. We were enjoying our meal in McDo after a sort of tiring process we had to go through to get my permit for the UP Law Aptitude Exam this Sunday.

“Natural!” Without really thinking about it, partly because I was concentrating on my chicken McDo and partly because I do want to have a child.

Then with wide eyes and a bewildered look he said, “Natural? Bakit natural? Why natural?”

“ Natural, bakit hindi? Because I want to have kids. Because I want to have a family.” I said, feeling the need to explain my side because I think I’m being judged. Haha, by Atoy, my dear friend.

“You’re like Carrie (Bradshaw, Sex and the City) , you tend to mix what you want with what the society dictates you should want.

That got me into thinking, what do I really want? did I say yes I wanna have kids because I felt pressured by the fact that it’s what’s expected of someone after she becomes successful with her career and gets married? How do we separate ourselves from what we truly want and what we want to just show people that we are living an ok life? In a world where everyone’s influenced by everyone, how do we make sure that WE ARE STILL LIVING A LIFE WE WANT? Are we decision makers or decision takers?

As for me, I do want to have kids. I’m even taking up Creative Writing for Children to make sure that I can write something for my kids someday. It is natural for me because I love having kids around but where did this come from? If I don’t end up getting married someday would I feel so shattered? What if I can't get pregnant, would adoption feel the same as actually bearing a child?

Errr, I don’t even have a man in my life. Why am I thinking of getting pregnant? Oh well, I guess it’s just me. now, back to my coffee crumble.

The Virgin(a sequel to the original short story)

“Krrrr-ii-nnnnggggg!” The alarm clock rang loudly as if it wanted to sink into Ms. Mijares’ mind. Slowly, she opened her eyes and tried to adjust to the dimness of the room.

“A dream.” She thought. Flashbacks came up, the whispers of admiration, whines, bodies entwining. She couldn’t help but fancy for it to be true. God knows how much she was willing to give up just to be lost in the man’s embrace once again. Then she felt a warm hand on her stomach, it wasn’t hers.

“Did you sleep well?” The man asked her flirtatiously, as he stroke Ms. Mijares’ hair. She turned to see if she really heard someone , and he was there, half-naked, sharing the bed with her. The carpenter, the man whom, in the darkness, she turned to , the man who made her flesh leap.

“I must be going, I’ll be late for work,” She struggled to get on her feet and absent-mindedly went inside the shower. She tried to conceal the panic that was creeping in her. “If you’re hungry just help yourself and get whatever you want from the kitchen.” She added, just before turning the shower on. She was shuddering, not because the water was cold but because what just happened wasn’t a dream but a reality. Then, her panic turned into nauseating happiness, her qualms were washed away as the water flowed through her body.

Thrilled, Ms. Mijares dressed up hurriedly and fervently looked for her man. Yet, he was nowhere to be found. She got her things and headed out, wondering.

At the office, she went directly to the shanty. Ato, her foreman, approached her with a bemused look. “Down here early Ms. Mijares?” he commented.

“I just wanted to check if things are okay in here, Ato,” she babbled while her eyes wandered around. “Are all the workers here now?”

“Why of course Ms. Mijares, they’re all here. Are you looking for someone in particular?” He interrogated.

Blushing, Ms. Mijares smiled and replied, “No ,just making sure.” She went back into her office, dismayed, while her mind was full of questioning thoughts.

Time passed and Ms. Mijares never heard a word from the carpenter. The man who snatched her virginity and showed her what she was missing. Every night came as a burden to her, knowing that she would long for his hands and the flame that they lit as he felt and caressed her. She felt used, taken for granted and juvenile; still, she wanted him to feel her once more. Then, the encounter came.

The sky was murky; clouds covered the night and the rain was hammering hard. She got into a jeepney, half-hoping she’d be lost again. “How are you, Ms. Mijares?” A familiar voice startled her.

“Mama, stop the jeep please.” She hurried out and walked as fast as she could. She was soaked and cold, tears of resentment and desire fell from her eyes. Then she felt a strong grasp on her arms.

“Where are you going? Why are you running away?” Finally, they were face to face. The man’s eyes made her drown into a pool of passion. He unleashed the emotions that were deep inside of her.

“How dare you ask me that! Don’t you think I should be the one asking these questions? Where did you go, you user!” She shouted, quivering. The man looked at her straight in the eyes, held her hand and sighed. “Don’t you dare touch me again! What would you do, say sorry and expect me to forgive you just like that?!” She was really crying hard, every word made her tremble.

“I got scared. I’m not asking you to forgive but you have to listen to me.” His eyes were red, tears were beginning to form. “I thought things happened too fast. There was too much passion, too much attraction. I didn’t know if I could handle it, I got scared that I might screw things up,” He explained with full emotion. “I’m sorry that I was such a coward, but please… give me the CHANCE.”

They looked into each other’s eyes. The rain poured with much vigor, the whole world turned into darkness. The wind blew hard, as the rain kissed the ground ardently, water and earth became one. The moon wasn’t there, but tomorrow, the sun will shine to give light to their lost hearts…

-The End-

Ego

Then,
T’ was once taken care of, lulled to sleep,
Fed like a baby so innocent and frail;
Now,
It’s crumpled, torn and thrown away.
My ego, my strength.. I’m strong no more.