Paskong C.O.D.

Paskong C.O.D.



Hummin': Chestnuts roasting...

Iba na ang simoy ng hangin. Lumalamig ang panahon na tila inihahanda ang bawat isa para sa narararapit na pagsapit ng Pasko.

Animo'y tubig sa linaw ang aking mga alaala ng mga nakaraang Pasko. Hindi lahat ay naging masaya. Hindi lahat nais kong maalala pa. Subalit, sa labing-siyam na Paskong aking nasaksihan, marami-rami rin ang hindi ko maaring kalimutan. Isa na rito ang alaala ng mga gabi sa harap ng C.O.D.

Kilalang-kilala itong maliit na mall na ito noong 90's dahil sa palabas nitong talaga nga namang dinarayo ng mga tao. Ipinapalabas kasi ang kwento ng pagdating ni Hesu Kristo sa mundo sa pamamagitan ng gumagalaw na mga mannequins.

Kakaiba.

Awtomatik.

Nakakaaliw.

Sisimulan ito sa pagpapakita ng malayong paglalakbay nila Jose at Maria papuntang Betlehem, kung saan isisilang si Hesus sa isang sabsaban. Naroroon ang mga tagapangalaga ng tupa, ang tatlong hari, mga anghel atbp. Kumpleto ang mga tauhan at may sound effects pa!

At, oo nga pala, LIBRE 'to!

Pagkatapos mapanood ang maiksing palabas habang buhat-buhat ng aking ama, bibili kami ng bagong luto na puto bumbong at bibingka. Mabango at umuusok-usok pa. Aagawin ng ate ko ang puto bumbong, akin naman ang bibingka. Aawatin pa kami ng ina ko dahil baka nga naman sa sobrang katakawan ay hindi kami matunawan.

Masarap. Walang kasing sarap ang mga pagkaing iyon.

Itong taong ito, wala nang C.O.D. na magdadala ng galak at tuwa tulad noong ako'y bata pa. Subalit masaya ako at nariyan pa ang aking pamilya at mga kaibigan kung saan nabubuhay ang mga alaala, at mga gagawin pang alaala ng mga Paskong hinaharap.

Sana ngayong Pasko, huwag nating limutin ang mga biyayang ating natanggap at huwag kaligtaang magpasalamat para sa taong nagdaan.

Maligayang Pasko sa inyong lahat!

Wisdom-induced Pain

Wisdom-induced Pain



Hummin': When God Ran by Craig, Philips & Dean

I woke up last Monday on the wrong side of the bed. My left cheek was hurting and my jaw clicked everytime I opened and closed my mouth. I thought I might've slept in a wrong position the previous night.

I shrugged it off as "stiff-jaw," if there is such a thing.

The next day I was a little bit worried because the pain wasn't going away. In fact, it was hurting even more and spreading up to my lower jawline and the inner part of my left ear. I ate a tablet of Ponstan to suppress the pain.

Wednesday came and I woke up only to find that I couldn't open my mouth properly without excruciating pain shooting from my nerves. I had a hard time eating (uuyy, diet) because I couldn't quite place the spoon inside my mouth. Brushing was another torture altogether.

Imagine my frustration.

But the climax of that day was when I forgot about my predicament and yawned widely in one of my classes. OH GOD, the pain... I almost made a scene by suddenly crying.

At first, I thought I might have a nerve problem--or something serious. (Yes, I am paranoid.) I consulted everyone, pointing to where the pain was rooting from. Then, my friend, Sheryl, suggested that the pain might be coming from the "birth" of my Wisdom Tooth. She had apparently suffered from the same symptoms.

I heaved a sigh of relief, thinking that everything's going to be okay.

And then, she added, "Mine had to be pulled out. Dental surgery."

(Remember my aversion to needles?) I wanted to faint right then and there.

Why oh why is WISDOM so hard to come by?

And in the rare times that it does come knocking at our doors, why do we usually have to undergo a lot of pain in order to obtain it?


* * *


New poem -- The World Never Sleeps.

Laughter = Tears?

Laughter = Tears?



Hummin': Lunes by Sponge Cola

I've noticed that when you're in your happiest, you cry. And on the contrary, you laugh when you're in your saddest state.

When a contestant wins in a beauty pageant, a valedictorian graduates on top of her class, a woman finally receives a proposal of marriage, why is it that each of them cries? Isn't it strange that when we experience an insurmountable surge of joy, we cry?

And yet, don't you find it strange that when we feel anguish, embarassment or disappointment, sometimes, we try to laugh it away? We tell a joke or make a joke out of the situation, even though our hearts are breaking as we do so?

Baliktad (opposites), diba?

Is it a way of coping with the unexpected arrival of emotions, or does it come naturally that when we reach the extremes, being mere humans, we just go ballistic?

I don't know the answer to all these questions. I'm equally begoggled myself.

It's just that I laughed on the day I got slapped and called, "worthless."

I laughed until tears ran out of my eyes.

Boys and Carrots

Boys and Carrots



Hummin': Wherever you are by South Border

I was late. I grabbed all my things even before the taxi had completely stopped. When it did, I quickly placed one leg out, ready to rush to class. But before I could fully get out, I looked up--only to see him.

He was standing there, barely a meter from me. I blinked twice, and he was still there.

He was the one that I used to look forward to seeing and yet, each time I do, I incomprehensibly wanted to shrivel, melt with shyness and disappear in front of him. I wished I could talk to him, but when the rare opportunity came by, I wasn't even able to complete a sentence.

I was hooked like a horse chasing after a carrot dangled on a string in front of me that I just couldn't reach. Deep down I knew it was a futile chase, and yet, I still kept on running.

It's been a while since I last saw him. But the moment came as a surprise. It was too late too look away and pretend I didn't see him. So I did the only thing I could. I looked at him, saw him recognize me and then I walked away with my head high.

I felt so much better that day knowing that I've gained my dignity back. For that little accomplishment, I was so proud of myself.

On hindsight, I realized maybe it's because I never really liked carrots anyway.

Denial Ditch

Denial Ditch



Hummin': If The Feeling Is Gone by Kyla

I have always been one who couldn't quite handle the pressure. Breaking down and crying is not my thing, especially not the crying part. But I do crumble and crawl back into my shell whenever things just seem too chaotic.

I know that about me--and yet, I've never quite tagged myself as such.

I have always used denial to go through my problems. I treat them as though they don't exist, as though everyday's just fine. I have lost a number of battles because I hid and allowed my foes to overwhelm me.

Denial is a dead end. I learned the hard way.

Two weeks, just two weeks before the summer vacation of 2002, I finalized a decision, a choice that I regret until this very day.

That last semester of my senior year in highschool, I was involved with tons of activities. I was an officer of our Teen's Fellowship, one of the staff in our Youth Leader's Conference, lead actress in one of the 3 short plays our school was presenting, cramming for all those university entrance examinations and editor-in-chief of our highschool publication, Nouvelles.

At that point in time, the pressure was piling up like the mountain of garbage in Payatas, looming and threatening to fall. I didn't know where to run. Articles were late, and the ones submitted on time were somewhere lost in space. I was tracking down from which editor hand did each paper passed through and to which it was misplaced. But no one would admit to the mistake. Everyone started pointing fingers.

I was stuck in the middle of it all.

Our newspaper adviser, who I would be thankful for all my life for all the opportunities he had opened doors for me, had our administration chewing him off about the pending release of our newspaper, and in turn he was asking me for it. But I couldn't give him anything, because I myself didn't know where it went.

I tried to run, but I was backed into a wall. I did the only thing I could think of at that time. I whipped out my white flag and surrendered.

I have been severely traumatized by that event, even though no one witnessed to the tears I had shed. I have always doubted my abilities ever since then. I no longer accepted any position for any publications ever again, not in church, not even in our university org.

The possibility of failure was just too big a risk to take.

That summer, I denied everything that happened and went on to my happy-go-lucky life. It was wrong to turn your back on problems, but I was too tired and humiliated to even think about dealing with it. I moved on, entering a new phase of my life--college.

But in truth, I had never moved on from that pit I dug myself into.

When I received my copy of that final newspaper-slash-magazine we did in time for the school's 35th anniversary ending two years ago, I felt my heart crack into hundreds of pieces...

...when I saw that my name was no longer in there.