journey on dark waters

The other day, hours before the concert of the Philippine Philharmonic Orchestra began, I wandered off through the floors of the Cultural Center of the Philippines. I was in awe as I walked along the paintings lining the walls of the building. Studying each stroke, each hue, I found myself lost amongst the colors that struck a chord in my heart. I ask myself, what was the artist feeling when he painted this piece? After looking at the paintings I went one floor up where the museum was. It was a place where one could find his or her roots. Looking at the pieces from behind glass cases, I was amazed at how our country has so many riches to impart to us. But sadly, our generation has forgotten. Gone are the days when one would use the gamelan and the gongs to produce music, or the gitara or the rondalla. Now its rock music here, sentimental music there, pop music everywhere. Our traditional music, almost gone with the changing times. A few more steps and I was in a place where folk dances...

We all have our different tastes... A different take on clothes, gadgets, books and even food. That includes desserts. Like most of the Filipinos, I grew up to be a Goldilocks kid. My birthday cakes would come from Goldilocks and even that irresistible polvoron and caramel popcorn. When there are times I would feel down and out, I will grab my bag and wallet and catch a jeep going to SM North where the Goldilocks store would greet me at the entrance. Katulad din ng nakararami, I too, underwent a change... a pagbabago. When I was in college, I was the shy-type, not really minding my looks and how I walk. And it was in this period where I met a man whom I thought would be my mate for an entire lifetime. He was cool, good-looking and confident. He complimented my simplicity as something to his style. Little did I know, he had a dark side to his "somewhat-saintly ways". He began abusing me, both physically and emotionally. When we both separated ways after the incident, I underw...

This evening while walking home, kindness gave me a ride. While on my way home, walking through darkness and rows of condominiums, a tricycle stopped and the driver asked me if I would like a ride home. I said sure, why not? I was heading that way anyway. As the tricycle rolled by I started fishing for my wallet to pay the man for his kindness in giving me a lift home. When the tricycle stopped in front of the store where tricycles were posted I took out my wallet and I started to look for spare change. The driver smiled and told me that it was free, I no longer had to pay. I smiled and thanked him profusely. On my trek home, I can't help but wonder over the decision the driver had to make to give me a lift. Was it easy? Or was it hard to make? Connecting it with my life, in the course of it, I was asked, so many times, how come I am still single? Good question though. Was it a personal choice or a decision? Looking back, it was a decision I had to make. Was there another choice? O...

As I write this I listen to a song that I hope someday would be sung to me. I ask myself, when will it happen? I wonder when someone will really have the courage to ask my father and ask for his flower and give her a bouquet. I also wonder if someday, someone will ask for me, my father's princess and make me his queen? I don't want to sound jealous, but I do envy my older sister. She could get everything she could want when it comes to guys. People would be telling me how lucky I could be or the guy. But where is he? Why is he blinded by material things or superficial elements that make up a girl? Every time I hear someone liking me, I ask myself when will he have the guts to just ask and tell me himself instead of someone telling me instead? Does he have any idea how painful it could be for me? To be lied and joked or played with? I am not a toy. I am also a human being. I have feelings too. Last night, I had the most meaningful conversation with a friend. Talking about this w...

My Super ONE is my Grandma... Right now, she's residing at the Land Down Under with my other uncles and aunts. This photo, which was taken around May of last year was a photo of me and my Nanay (as we fondly call her) 24 years after she migrated to Australia. She came to visit us last year and announced upon her arrival: "Apo, let's go to South Korea! I want to see where they shoot Winter Sonata!" After that epic trip to Seoul, Nanay still calls us every now and then and writes to us. And would you believe at the age of 82 she surfs the internet? After our youngest sister taught her how, Nanay couldn't get off the net! I just wish she's here right now... I miss spending midnights with her watching her Koreanovellas and her war time stories (she survived both the 2 World Wars). The good thing is, Globe recently launched Super One ... this is a sure way for me and Nanay to still stay connected despite the distance and time difference.

Sunny side-up with ham and butter on toast. Baked. Fresh raspberry lemonade, cool morning breeze. You catch my attention, gathering dust under heat Behind walls. Echoes of pebbles under the train. Station to station. Reminds me of the subway ride from Upper East Side to Manhattan. I wanted to go near you. Touch you. But sadly you're no longer up for grabs. Destination arrival time read eight past one and I walk away.

Passing cars, pedestrians... Red light. Green light. Thermals rising through the air I catch a glimpse of a stranger, sea of faces swirling smoke I close my eyes, hoping for a moment to catch a fragment of your smile. maybe, just maybe, just for a second. Its 30 minutes past noon. Walkways, pathways, a few minutes of cold air. Hurrying footsteps here and there. Shadow of people fading. Train arrives, 9 3/4. Echoes over the PA system. Next station, Buendia Station... interchange station to the Bel-Air line, doors will open on the right. I smile.