Maybe I Should Write In Sign Language

I eavesdropped on the most interesting squabble in the history of kindergarten.

It involved someone stealing someone's chocolate bar, and 4 broken pencils. The adults, they didn't care. But this...this was a raging debate, and my attention was unsplit.

She must be 5. I don't remember her name, but it has at least one Z and a C. Some name that excited parents give their children, with no forethought on how hard it will be for the poor thing to learn to write her name. There's a Dora sticker where there was a 1 x 1 picture on her school ID. She has a purple lunch box. Her prettier sister must have the pink one.

He had 4 candles on his last birthday cake. He cannot be named Enzo. Only remarkably cute or remarkably ugly babies are ever named Enzo or Ethan. He is neither remarkably cute nor remarkably ugly. I think he will come out when he is 14 or 15. If it were the 90s, he'd love beauty pageants and Mariah Carey and The Spice Girls. I am too sure.

I thought that crayons will fly. There was the stomping of rubber shoes 2/3 the size of mine. It was intense. I can't turn my head away. I had no shame in watching them. I did not care to be discreet. I know they will not notice me eavesdropping on them.

I know they will not notice me eavesdropping on their fight...in sign language.

I had never seen a more fierce expression of feelings. Maybe I should write in sign language.

***

This is me. In my perfectly imperfect splendor. In my pure awesomeness. Take it or leave it.

***

It went something like this...

Me: So, I dated this starving artist, and he sketched me naked.

Bulalo Person: Well, it makes sense. Writers make poems. Artists paint.

Me: I once dated an Art Director of an ad agency. He gave me a cute trash bin.

Bulalo Person: That...is precisely my point.

***

That

was

a

play.

An award-winning play.

Because

I

said

so.

When You Are About To Reach Orgasm...

...do you say "OHMYGOD, SHITSHITSHIT!!!"

or

sinasabi mo...

"Aysyetputangina!"?

*A few days ago, I had a chance to get an answer. I forget. Someone should remind me.

***

That

was a poem

because

I

said

so.

***

If you do not breathe through writing, if you do not cry out in writing, or sing in writing, then don't write, because our culture has no use for it. - Anais Nin

***

Someone I dated curses in German as he nears orgasm, and right after, prays "Hail Mary" in Spanish before he sleeps. Obviously, he is more psychologically flawed than I am...so...it didn't work. I now avoid him.

When I was a small child (now, I am a big child), my father would belt me senseless, cursing in Ybannag incessantly. I hear him argue with work colleagues, in English, all the time.

I know a Fil-Brit, with a dreamy English accent, who dreams in Hiligaynon.

I need to remember.

I need to remember the language in which I breathe, cry and sing. I need to remember the language of my eyes as I look at someone I love. I need to remember the language to which I curse as I near orgasm. I need to remember the language of my tears.

And that language will be the spoken by my pen.

Because I Stayed Up All Night And I Cannot Write

The rushing

of feet

to meet

a

new

lover.

The waning moon.

Hands.

Your hands. They make me beautiful.

The swirls from your pipe danced with the curls of my hair.

Peppered with words that we interweave.

I have tasted the color of your skin. Tempered passion.

And we made love as 16 street cats did.

Tomorrow, we are strangers.

***

Last night, I fell in love with a starving artist.

***

Him: And the smoke that rises from the dying cigarette spell you out in contours, swirling in tendrils and the stain of your lipstick.

Me: Honey, I don't wear makeup. But yeah, it's your universe of words.

***

Bad News: It's not about you.

Good News: You don't need to get jealous. Ok. You can.

How Does One Cut a Cake into Seven Equal Pieces?

I woke up choking on my own tongue. Coughed with tears in my eyes, 5, 6 minutes. A backmasked video in my head. In between coughs, I tried to remember what or who it was about. They say that when you choke out of nowhere, or bite your lip, or maybe sever your tongue with your own teeth, somebody is thinking of you. I spent the afternoon scaring my self by looking at plates of red cars. I cannot deny - I was hoping that he was thinking of me.

I suddenly remember - I wasn't dreaming of someone who has a red car.

***

I woke up choking on my own sheets. It was 9 am. There's panic, then this elation. Panic on waking up feeling the sun, and not knowing what to wear. Elation on remembering that it's a Sunday, and I can indulge in my sheets for an endless number of hits on "Snooze".

I woke up with a weirdly urgent need to figure this out - who should I invite to my wedding?

***

A slice of my wedding cake each for:

7.) Anna. At all costs, she will be there. I am certain.

6.) Tita Lit. There has to be someone who will poke fun at the half-welcome guests.

5.) Sylvester, my favorite cat. Silvey will be ring bearer. I don't know a lot of cute little boys. Well, I do, but:

a .) I am not friends with their mothers, or

b.) I have yet to give birth to them.

4.) Adriane. She has never been a flower girl. My wedding will be her chance. I'll make sure that her dress won't make her feel that she has a cacti on each underarm. Out of 100 respondents, 73 flower girls say that it's the reason why they throw tantrums.

3.) Katrina. In every situation, I always need a dose of panic and worry.

2.) Mom. Because she is my only parent (yes, she gave birth to us in the same fashion that amoeba propagate - by splitting themselves.)

1.) My groom.

I have met all of them except for One.

***

So how does one cut a cake into seven equal pieces? How is love split into seven equal servings? The answer is, you don't. I shouldn't. I should cut it into 8 unequal pieces. A slice goes to me. And I will make sure that it's the biggest slice of all.

***

Oh. I failed to warn you that this is not about sex.

Fifty-Seven.

I have never had indelible ink on my right finger. In a way, it means that I have blood on my hands.

***

Those 57 bodies.

To me, they are all strangers. They are I-could-not-even-imagine-how-many-miles away from me. Their lives are disjoint from mine. I don't even know what their names are. To me, they will just be the 57 bodies that have been recovered so far in the Maguindanao manslaughter.

I shouldn't be caring at all. I am perfectly safe where I am right now. The only discomfort I am feeling is this longing for spaghetti. There is not one bullet in my body. My hands are free to type, they are not hogtied. My eyes have not been gouged out. My privates have not been slashed. I still have my two feet. I am not decomposing, with blood caking in my jeans and my slippers. Nobody has attempted to turn me into fertilizer together with 56 or so other bodies, all using an excavator which should be building roads.

My heart is beating. I am alive. Yes, very much so.

But something in me has been deeply violated. A part of my humanity has been stolen. I am disgusted. I am indignant. My face is crimson with this anger that has been welling inside of me.

And I do not understand. There's a deluge of images and words and sounds. I try to, but I do not understand. It does not make sense to me. And maybe, it never will.

Events like these could only do two things to us. They could leave us stumped. Disoriented. Jaded. They could push us to resignation, to surrender. To just throwing the towel. To not caring since hey, we're here in the safety of the Capital, and if what we see in the evening news leaves us nauseous, nobody holds our thumbs back from pressing the power button.

Or events like these, they could rouse us from this apathy. They could stir us to action. They could push us to say, "Fuck, this should stop, RIGHT NOW." This collective anger, this mass of disgust, this rightful indignation, this energy - it could move us, more than, way more than 57 bodies, LIVING BODIES, to reclaim that piece of humanity that was stolen from us.

My thumb will not press the power button. My head will not turn away. I will take it all in. I have no right to whine. I have blood on my hands as I have never had indelible ink on any of my fingers. But in May of next year, the mark that my thumb will leave on some ballot (or some overly-priced scanning apparatus), no matter how minute and seemingly insignificant, will be my voice.

***

I really hate it when I need to wipe tears off my eyes, and it doesn't even involve a great sex.

Singtamis ng Wine, Singtatag ng Sunshine*

*kapag alam mo kung saang kanta galing tong mga lyrics na 'to, may 54% chance na ikaw si Katrina Go.

***

Mahal Kong Kating,

Na-tempt akong magsorry sa dating sinabi ko na pa-conyo kang mag "Fuck You." Pero hindi ko na babawiin yun. Galing sa puso ko yun. Kung ako ang nasa posisyon mo, kung near-death na rin ako dahil sa isang natataeng jeep driver, malamang, hindi ko sinabi yung "Fowk Yewwww!" Malamang, sinabi ko, "Tangina mo ka, Manong!"

Hindi laging comfortable ang buhay natin. Maraming times na napuputulan tayo ng kuryente at malunggay lang ang laman ng ref. Alam ko na-experience mo na rin na ma-delay ang bayad ng tuition. Hindi sa lahat ng panahon, maginhawa. Pero alam ko na mag-a-agree ka sa akin na kahit hindi laging maalwan ang buhay natin, hindi natin ipagpapalit yung paraan na lumaki tayo. Hindi natin ipagpapalit sa bidet ang tabo natin sa banyo. Hindi natin ipagpapalit ang mga sachet ng toyo at suka sa kusina, at ang Champion detergent (dahil iisa lang ang Champion). Hindi natin ipagpapalit ang mga electric fan natin na kailangang i-pray over para gumana.

Proud ako sa ating magkakapatid, sa pagiging grounded nating mga tao. Kumpara sa mga taong nakakasalamuha natin, mas malawak ang pangunawa at mga pananaw natin sa mga bagay-bagay. Sige, oo na, hindi pa tayo nakakapunta sa ibang time zone, hindi pa tayo nakakaranas ng snow, pero alam ko na ikaw (pati si Adriane at Mayang din) ay a-agree na maraming mga maliliit na mga ligaya sa buhay ang hindi ipinagkait sa atin. Yung mga finer things in life, alam ko na paunti-unti, nae-experience na din natin. Pero malaki ang pagpapasalamat ko na pinalaki tayo sa paraang gusto kong mapalaki ang mga magiging anak ko.

Ita-try kong gumawa ng listahan ng mga maliliit na kajologang bagay na nagbubuklod sa ating magkakapatid.

1.) Videoke. Okay din naman ang RockBand, kaso walang mga kanta ang Aegis sa RockBand. Sulit na pang-alis ng pagod sa trabaho. Hanggang garagal na ang lalamunan. Hanggang may umangal na neighbors. Malamang wala naman. Kanya-kanyang panahon lang naman yan sa pag-abuso ng mic. Feeling ko nga, may unspoken treaty sa Camella Homes na bawal magreklamo kapag nagvi-videoke ang kapitbahay mo. (Teka, bayad na ba yung videoke player natin??)

2.) Teleserye. Nakakainis na dahil sa schedule natin sa trabaho, hindi na tayo nakakapanood ng "Katorse". Pero okay lang yan. Pakwento na lang tayo kay Mylene. Sana lang naliligo siya araw-araw. Pero sabi niya, hindi raw yata siya maliligo hanggang hindi na-re-reelect si Erap.

3.) Pagko-commute. Nakakapagod, oo. Nakakadugo ng wallet, I know, right. Pero naman. Saan ka pa ba makakapanood ng mga movies ni Dolphy at ni Philip Salvador? Which brings me to one realization - gusto ko naman pala ang mga movies na may song-and-dance number sa ending, provided na first na ipinalabas yung movie before 1991. Hindi ko din ma-explain 'to, pero effective na pampatulog yung mga nagpupunta sa harap at nagpapasa ng mga envelope na may nakalagay na "Love Offering".

4.) Street Food. Ma-achieve ko lang ang target weight ko, babalik ako sa pagkain ng kwek-kwek at gulaman. Nami-miss ko na rin yung mga donut na tag-P2, yung piniprito sa tabi-tabi lang. Yung pinagulong-gulong sa asukal. Mas masarap pa sa Krispy Kreme. As in.

5.) Spaghetting matamis. Nakita mo na ba yung bagong commercial ng UFC Ketchup? Naiyak ako dun. Hindi dahil na-touch ako, kundi dahil nami-miss ko nang kumain ng spaghetti. Yung matamis. Yung may 6/7 na bote ng ketchup. Yung natitirang 1/7 na bote ng ketchup, lalagyan pa ng mainit na tubig. Masarap na sawsawan ng galunggong fried to perfection.

6.) Tabo. Dati, naalala ko, for some reason, nawala yung tabo natin. Buti na lang, marami tayong lumang lalagyan ng ice cream. Mas masaya kayang maligo gamit ang tabo. Mas ramdam mo yung hampas ng tubig. Parang dura lang kasi yung shower e. Pero pag marami na tayong pera, papa-install tayo ng European style shower head sa banyo. Para kang naliligo sa alulod, ang lakas niya!

7.) Pamamalengke. Hindi mo masyadong na-experience 'to, kasi ako lang naman ang laging sinasama ni Mama kapag namamalengke siya. Yung mga characters sa utak ko, inspired sa mga characters na nakikita ko sa palengke. Hindi lang mga mikrobyo ang napupulot ko sa palengke. Sa palengke ako natutong magtiwala. Kahit gaano katagal mawala si Mama, alam ko babalikan niya ako kasi babayaran niya yung kinain ko na palabok.

8.) Gay lingo. Dati, nagagamit natin 'to para hindi maintindihan ni Mama yung mga pinaguusapan natin. Pero ngayon, dahil sa lagi tayez nag-ge-Gay lingo sa balaychina, pati si Mudrabelles, chumechever na. Kalerky.

9.) Sarah Geronimo. Tayo lang ang nakakaintindi nito. Dapat talaga siya na lang yung ginawang Vivian, instead of KC Concepcion. Napakapilit. Nakakasakit sa bungo yung pagpupumilit niyang maging jologs.

10.) Wowowee. Epektibong pampatalas ng isip ang game na Hep Hep Hooray (oo, Hep Hep, hindi Hip Hip). Kapag nasa office ako, naiinis ako kapag nasa Discovery Channel yung TV sa pantry kapag lunch time. Nililipat ko agad sa Wowowee. Nagbibigay ng ibang saya sa puso ko ang mga hairstyle ni Pokwang. Mas nakakayanan kong tiisin yung remaining half ng araw ko sa trabaho.

Bigla akong tinamad magsulat. Nag-vivideoke na kayo e. Hindi niyo na naman ako hinintay.

Looking back, wala ako dapat maging bitterness sa buhay. Marunong akong mag-English. Hindi ako nagte-text lingo. Marunong akong magmura ng malutong kapag hinihingi ng pagkakataon. Hindi sumasakit ang tiyan ko sa isaw. Alam ko kung paano mag-commute papunta sa Silang, Cavite. Matatag ako sa init (pero mahina ako sa aircon). Kaya kong mabuhay sa P50 sa isang araw, kung hindi ako lalabas ng bahay. Alam ko ang pinaka-bonggang paraan para ma-enjoy ang P500 sa isang araw.

Masaya ako sa buhay natin. Magaganda tayong mga tao, na kayang mabuhay sa lahat ng uri ng sitwasyon. Kaya natin 'to dahil kahit madalas tayong magmurahan at mag-"hiraman" ng napkin, mahal natin ang isa't isa.

P.S. I-promise mo sa akin na hindi ka mag-bo-boyfriend na mahilig mag-dudeparechong at nagsusuot ng orig na Crocs. Itatakwil kita.

***

If you are real, you will be ugly only to those who do not understand.

Cognac

They are able to kill.

They are able to give life.

They can cause the dying breath of a man.

They can cause the erratic breathing of a woman.

Your hands.

***

366 days (give or take a thousand shared heartbeats)

No other lover has touched me without touching me.

Here's to distilling the cognac.

***

I want you to

reach depths unreached

then come back to the surface and be my friend.

I want you to take me

the way a man should:

brutal

reckless

almost animal.