Balang Araw

Ang unang-una kong bibilhin ay bookshelf sa unang-una kong suweldo, yung maganda, yung pang matagalan. At study lamp para puwede ako magbasa sa gabi, o habang malamig at umuulan sa labas. Pagkatapos noon ay puro libro na. Maraming-maraming libro ang ilalagay ko sa kuwarto ko, hangang mapuno ang una kong biniling bookshelf. Bibili ako uli ng bookshelf pagkatapos nun.

Kapag papasok ako sa trabaho, dapat may baon ako. Magbabaon ako ng chicken at gulay, yung steamed. Mag-gy-gym din ako, o swimming, o kahit tumakbo-takbo lang diyan sa may kanto. Para healthy, para guwapo pa din, dahil mataga-tagal din akong uupo sa trabaho at hindi gaanong gagalaw.

Magbibisikleta na rin siguro ako papuntang opisina. Kung pwede, naka-scooter. Parang masaya mag scooter katabi ang dagat. Malamig ang simoy ng hangin, maganda ang view, pang-pelikula.

Aakyat ako ng bundok, yung nasa postcard. Maglalaro sa hamog at niyebe. At mag-susurfing din ako, balita ko uso naman yun doon. Uupo ako sa ilalim ng namumukadkad nilang mga puno at mag-tsa-tsaa. Yung mga templo, iisa-isahin ko.

At siguro, kung may tumanggap sa akin, susubukan ko mag-aral ng archery. Bagay siguro sa akin ang archery. Sport siya na solo lang, at kailangan mo lang mag-concentrate sa iisang sandali. Kailangan mo lang ng isang perfect na second, tapos ok na, bitaw na, manonood ka na lang. Sarap.

Magpapaka-dalubhasa ako sa trabaho ko, yung tipong dapat kaya ko gawin lahat ng kaya ng kasama ko. Pero hindi dahil nag-mamagaling. Gusto ko lang matutunan, para matulungan ko rin sila. At yung language, tuloy-tuloy yung practice. Siguro, maglalaan ako ng araw na maliligaw lang ako sa siyudad. Para lang mapilitan ako magtanong, makipag-usap, makipag-sapalaran.

Tatlong taon rin ako magsa-stay dun. Buti na din yung may plano. Pero ang importante, mag-enjoy ako. Sa palagay ko, yun ang pinaka-madaling gagawin sa lahat.

the Sudden Humility

I found my way to Los Banos last Saturday to salute a good friend of mine. In that particular manner you meet people haphazardly and realize the easy kinship, this is how I felt about him. And I braved unknown roads and the rural expanse to wish him goodbye properly, this quiet, steady friend of mine.

So friends came together that night, beside the pool, booze on the table, to offer him our well-wishing before he leaves for Malaysia. It was unspoken, a hidden acknowledgement between the hearty laughs, warm smiles, and gentle pats on the back.

A friend's blog turned 5 that day, too. And this blogger friend of ours asked us each if, by coming together, our lives have shifted somehow.

When it was my turn, I told the tale of the first connection. The yellowed tale of that one guy that was friendly, accommodating; the one that extended the invitation.

Afterwards, the guys asked me how come I looked so sad. I smiled a wry smile and whispered, "nostalgia".

I realized later it was something else: a sudden humility borne from an overflowing sense of "gratitude". Gay guys need gay friends. In the same way that swans must join their fellow swans, maybe to talk about feathers, or wonder about flight formations, or the taste of fish in the lake.

Being gay is a brave thing, a tough thing. And we do it everyday. I guess there's a certain bravery that comes from the knowledge of having a safe harbor, a respite to come back to after the battles. I see these friends of mine as my safe haven, they are the font of my courage, their assurance and company is the wind that lifts and flurries about the hidden banner waving in my heart.

It's that unsung joy, the feeling of fitting-in. And it is an incomparable happiness when you head out into the wide, infinite Earth and meet strangers you get along with. Great friends, after all, are the world's most precious treasure.

Gratitude is a creation of time and self-awareness. So take a moment and look back on all the days of your life, the quiet, the turbulent. You'll realize that the most unique of these moments are products of collaboration: a hodge-podge of love, camaraderie, and luck.

So thank God for good friends, and the quiet opportunities to tell them so.

BGM: The Corrs - Intimacy

What Stands Between

The somber commuters think nothing more of the cabins of glass and steel or the hidden machinery encased within. The jarring metal. The electric momentum. The hot, steamy, hiss. All and more hardly distract the huddled many while they teeter at the edge of the worn platform, knuckles clenched, tickets within.

Their thoughts are elsewhere, further down the shadowed train tracks. It is as if the very gears of their lives take pause as they shuffle into the station, and just as abruptly resume at the next stop.

There is no life to be made in waiting, after-all.

Today marks the first month of waiting at the new job. Neophyte enthusiasm has given way to bridled anticipation, and these reigns, like my patience, grows ever thinner.

It's a force of gravity that intrudes upon me. The rest of my life, in all its weight and self-importance, reaches out from the distance, from across the fence, and takes hold of my very being, pulling it forward.

Like a mighty star, the tendrils of its influence creeps through the void, across ages, crawls into our skins, into the very marrow of our bones, pulls the willing and unwilling alike into its heart to combust, to burn, to become energy, to radiate outward and into the cosmos.

My very core is compelled, and yet my body lingers. For the paperwork must be complete, and due process accomplished. I stand stoic on the platform, glance at my watch, and wait once more.

My eyes linger on the grey coats as they step into the gaping maw of the train doors. An implicit trust is imparted by those who dare to travel beyond. My eyes begin to wander along the length of the tracks ahead, further and forward, until finally my vision is smothered by the distant impermeable darkness.

In the distance lies the destination, and who's to say what lurks, what haunts, what waits, what stands between the promise of arrival and the courage of departure.

Jamais Vu

There are still people in my life who don't know I'll be migrating soon. Such a matter that has permeated my every waking thought, one would think, would have disseminated itself in a spirited and lively manner.

Well, this self-appointed exile of mine has not caught the kind of traction I imagined it would. Contrary to the quakes and rumbles of my heart, maybe this diaspora is nothing epic.

People leave with a shrug. People disappear from our lives on a regular basis. Separation is casual.

It just so happened it's me leaving. And I've accepted that I won't be coming back. At least, not anyone recognizable. True friends would see otherwise:

They would not find me changed from him they knew--
Only more sure of all I thought was true.

And for each and every one of them, I've got plenty of goodbye's to spare--that, a quick hug, and the promise of remembering.

Pagkakataon

Walang plano, walang mangyayari. Sa katapausan, sa dulo, sa hanganan, saan hahanapin ang susunod na hakbang, ang nagtatagong kabanata, ang nagbabanta, ang posible?

Nagtatanka tahakin ang tapos na. Sinusubukan ang hindi pa nauulit. Sinisilip ang hindi pa nagaganap.

Parang mahirap tumungo sa hindi pa napupuntahan. Hindi ata posible yun. Kelangan muna magbago, tangalin ang balat-kayo ng naparirito upang suotin ang mukha ng naparoroon. Kailangan magunaw bago mabuo muli.

Sa katapusan, dahil walang destinasyon, lahat ay nagiging destinasyon. Oportunidad. Ang natitira ay ang desisyon: kaliwa, kanan, dito, doon.

Ang hirap naman pumili. Ang hirap magtapos, magtagumpay. Saan ba umuuwi ang mga bayani pagkatapos ng gera? Saan ba bumabalik ang mga kuwentong na kuwento na? Saan umuuwi ang pangarap, ang dalangin, kapag natupad na?

Anong natitira sa taong umusad, nagbago, at hindi na nakikilala?

Apat na Taon

"Today, I get my diploma," wika ko sa sarili ko pagka-gising na pagka-gising. Mahigit apat na taon nang nakalipas nung umakyat ako ng entablado, suot ang itim na kumot at matigas na sumbrero ng pagtatapos. Nag-trabaho ako, umibayong dagat, nagmahal, sumaya, naghiwalay, nalungkot, tumaba, pumayat, kumita, nagpakaluho, nangutang, nagbayad at nabuhay habang naghahanap-buhay. Ang daming rason kung bakit ko ipinagpaliban ang natatanging patunay ng aking pag-aaral, pag-sasakripisyo, at pagsisikap. Pero sa araw na ito, wala nang dahi-dahilan.

Alas-singko iyon, sa isang maulap na umaga ng Biyernes. Gumising ako nang maaga para abutan ang kanilang tanggapan sa UP Manila ng alas-otso. Apat na lagda na lamang ang nalalabi bago ko makuha ang aking diploma sa Office of the University Registrar. Ah, tapos na siguro ako nang alas-diyes ng umaga, makakapasok pa ako.

Alas-tres na ng hapon nung nahawakan ko ang aking diploma. Kinuhanan ko pa ng litrato at ipinaskil sa Facebook. "Kelan kaya ako makakakuha nyan?" huni ng isang babaeng estudyante sa likuran ko.

- - -

Upang makuha ko ang diplomang ito, ako muna ay umakyat ng tatlong palapag sa NEDA para sa lagda ng Office of Student Affairs.

Pagkatapos ay tumungo akong CAS upang hanapin ang lagda ng College Secretary. Wala pa daw sabi ng mataray na alalay, naka-blusang itim siya katerno ng kanyang kaluluwa. Umupo ako sa malapit na bangko at naghintay habang nanonood na muna ng mga estudyante. Ang ba-bata nila. Mga wala pang muwang sa kanilang katayuan, sa kanilang kakayahan. Ang su-suwerte.

Isang oras ang nakalipas at alas-diyes na, pero wala pa rin. Mukhang hindi na ako aabot sa opisina. Tumawag ako nang daglian sa amin at nagpaalam ng "half-day". Ayos. Kakain na muna ako ng tanghalian kasama si Ralph diyan sa may DFA. Malapit lang naman.

Ay anlayo, sa SM MOA kami nagawi. Kumain kami sa kainang Thai, Jatujak, at inilibre niya ako doon ng curry na manok at pansit na malapad na kung tawagin ay Pad Thai. Alas-dos na ako nakabalik, siguro naman nandyan na ang hinihintay ko.

Tumambad si maitim na alalay at inabot sa akin ang aking "clearance form" kasama ang lagda ng sekretarya ng kolehiyo. Maraming, maraming salamat. Dalawang lagda na lamang.

Takbo akong NEDA muli, pangatlong palapag, isa-(pa)ng lagda sa Office of Student Affairs at isa pa sa Learning Resource Center(LRC). Ewan ko ba kung bakit kasama pa ang LRC, hindi naman ako nakinabang doon.

May nadaanan akong pulubi. Tumigil ako, tumalikod, bumalik, at nag-iwan ng anim na piso. Sa aking sarili, nagdasal ako ng taimtim, "Ayan, Lord, mabait naman ako. Tulungan mo din ako, ah? Please."

Hayan na, ang Office of the University Registrar. Ang tagapagtago ng aking diploma. Ang guwardiya ng aking kayamanan. "Akin na yan," mahina kong ibinulong habang nakapila sa Window 1.

Inalalayan ako ng naka-berdeng jacket na babae. Pumasok siya sa likod at doon ay nagtagal. Ang tagal. Ako ay bahagyang kinabahan.

"Meron ka pang kulang, lab fees. 800 lang naman," sabi ng pahinante pagkabalik.

"Ha? Lab fees? Pwede ko na ba bayaran ngayon na?" sagot ko.

"Diyan lang sa tabi, sa may kahera."

Pila ako, at sabay silip sa kalupi. Ay nako, pitong-daan na lang ang aking salapi. Tumakbo ako sa ATM at naglabas ng pera. Buti na lang husto ang aking kinuha dahil walang sinusukli ang kahera. Nagbayad ako at kumaripas pabalik sa babaeng naka-berdeng jacket. Nakangiti at magaan ang aking puso (at ang aking pitaka), inabot ko ang aking "clearance form", kumpleto ang mga lagda, may resibo pa.

- - -

Ang haba nang nangyari. Pakiramdam ko hindi matutuwa ang estudyanteng ito kung inilahad ko lahat sa kanya.

Lumingon na lamang ako sa kanya. "Apat na taon ko itong hinintay."

Napatingin ako muli sa aking diploma, "Di bale, darating din yan."

Basta huwag ka lang susuko bulong ng puso ko.

I Always Said Red

Arrogant. It is said that the proudest are also the most ignorant. Where the human mind cannot afford fear, it tends to oversimplify and underestimate instead. It's a weighty thought that bore no meaning to me when I read it once upon a time.

And when I lived a little longer, saw a little farther, I thought this was the world and I knew exactly what I was doing. I believed I knew enough. Presumptuous.

I once said that I couldn't pick a favorite book, movie, or song. Arguing that those who have truly dived into the millennia of human creativity and inspiration could not possibly choose one gem from the whole scintillating body of work. Those who managed to pick just haven't seen enough to compare with.

In Japanese class, for practice, we declare our favorite colors. I always said red. If they had to ask why, I'd, in broken Japanese, explain I like red because it isn't blue. Everyone likes blue and I don't want to be like everyone.

I'm guilty of convincing myself I'm above the usual, that I'm better. It helps with the self-esteem and the confidence. But there are some people that exude strength with such an uninhibited manner. The self-assured. I envy them.

I envy them because they pick colors they like. Because they want to have Harry Potter's babies. Because they've memorized every line of Back to the Future. Because they can Mmmmmbop forevermore--and have tried.

They are the vibrant, the free.

And they are better than me because they are aware of what makes them tick, what gets their juices running, what makes them--them. They know and are intimate with the urges of their heart, the stirrings of their soul.

I think it's time to find out where my inner compass points. Stray from the path and see where my secret dreams could take me--if they'll lead me home.

You have to get lost to find yourself.

Framed by the unfamiliar, we are forced to discover our personal truth.

a Change in Scenery

An awesome fact about the new place is that there isn't really much to be said at all. This is entirely because I haven't spent the most of those 2 weeks at the office. This is amazing news.

But I still have to say something, before I lose that fresh perspective and novel insight afforded only to those who are in transition. Ehem, ehem.

The commute takes some getting used to. It's a far cry from the Makati shuttle I took at the last place, especially now that this new route requires a jeep, a bus, and an MRT ride to complete--plying Sucat road, SLEX and EDSA respectively. Those are 3 rides compared to the lazy 1 shuttle where I am of the habit of just dozing-off. Dozing-off on the road is not an option anymore. And it's especially difficult since I wake up at 5am now--plus I'm prone to purring noises. Mrrrrr.

Though the location bites, the place itself is a beaut-. It's a new office located at the 18th floor of the sleek, modern Hanston Square building along San Miguel Ave. This gifts wandering eyes with a commanding view of the Ortigas cityscape: Shangrila hotel and mall, Megamall, EDSA, and lately, various ants with umbrellas. Styled like traditional Japanese offices, rows of workspaces and 21inch LCD monitors run perpendicular to lofty windows facing west. And every evening, employees are bathed in orange hues as the sun slowly sets into the skyline.

The work-force has the option to revel in the aforementioned receding glow of dusk at the office or on their way home. The uber-flexitime system in place only enforces mandatory attendance from 11am-4pm, allowing the industrious to clock in as late and clock out as early as they like. And with no salary deductions at all as long as, of course, they fulfill the 80 hours before the bi-monthly payroll cut-off period. Hurrah for options, and hurray for convenience.

My only gripe then is the lack of male representation. 2/3 of the work-force are deployed in Japan and that includes most of the men from the office. Of the 20 people remaining, there are only 6 of us manly men to man the place.

Romantic pursuits may have to be postponed 'til touchdown in Japan, where I'll be sharing a flat with more men. Suffice to say, it's an arrangement that is not without promise.

XI. Acknowledgements

A finished task is common enough, the only marked difference is the effort expended. And most great tasks are defined by that effort, or the summation of efforts of all individuals involved. Recognized here:

To my parents, who paid for the tuition that would eventually fund this undertaking. That and for waking me up, feeding me, and taking me to school—as much as they possibly could, with all the patience in the world.

To my college friends, who made the length of days short and sweet.

To my high-school friends, who will always remind me of all that I can be, should be, and will be.

To Coach Gerry, whose impetus gave me strength.

To Joms, who reminded me not to tarry.

And to Myself, for following through—eventually.

Ad Interim

Tomorrow marks the 7th day, the end to the week long break from that side of me that pushed so hard to go places. That side of me that heeded to keenly the ticking clock of my transitory life. It felt good, not wearing that watch for a while.

And in that short span of time, I:

got plenty of hugs, found the courage to follow-up on those malicious 'intentions', got a picture instead, overloaded on rice, played the drums again and found my awkward beat, got drunk, sang, got drunk again;

overslept, asked someone out to a date, did something japanese, went to confirm I'm 'negative', confirmed I'm negative, got a hug, got a number, liked someone, went and watched something japanese, had a bag full of dark-chocolate covered malt-balls, went and watched something campy, stayed up late, laughed with friends, laughed with family, felt alive, read a book;

overslept, spent some quality time with the dog, got what needed doing done, gym-ed, danced 'til I was sweaty, was satisfied, went home, closed the door on someone's hand, avoided a lawsuit, read a book, wrote;

overslept, marathon-ed a tv series, felt embarrassed, felt alone, attempted to rediscover, attempted to reconnect, found some degree of quiet, found some resolution, found his friends, over-ate on dimsum, had a great time, loved his friends a little more;

slept, had a brief encounter with a needle, got checked-up by a doctor, flirted during the pre-medical exam, went all the way to Makati for really good ramen, loved it, learned the value of new friends, went home, dreamed of New York, dreamed of better things.

In 7 days, I reconnected with old friends. I did not deny the wish of my good friends. I imposed on best friends. Is this what being alive is like? Maybe all there is to live for is the company of good friends. Pursuits, dreams, goals, they're all noble and practical. But who'll be there to celebrate and applaud when you've finished the race, when you've followed through. When you're finally up on stage, will you stand before an audience of one--your own vanity--and be happy?

Life is a collaboration. People each have separate routes to plot, and I believe that the impact, the collisions of these trails produce all the beauty life has to offer. All the things I know and love have gained that place because they have touched my heart in an unexpected way. It's in the unscripted that I found sincerity; in the unpredictable, passion. I think it's time to talk to strangers, to be guided by the wind, and to consult with the stars.

Oh, and I found some great music. Little by little, it's starting to feel like it all makes sense again.