I used to have a best friend online. He’s dark, attractive, and of Latino descent. He speaks Spanish and English. He used to be my English teacher and taught me some Spanish. We were very close. It felt like I’ve known him for so long… like I’ve met him personally. He knows me very well. He feels it when I’m sad, he knows it when I’m mad, and he knows if there’s something bothering me.

For some reason, the friendship that we treasured the most breathes its last breath. He let go of me, I let go of him. The pain of losing him didn’t hit me that much - until one day; it was the day when I broke down and cry. It felt like I broke up with a boyfriend. The pain and the tears I was holding for so long; I finally let go of them.

One thing that I won’t forget about him is his favorite poet; Pablo Neruda. I’m not fond of reading poems, so I didn’t care who Pablo Neruda was. He uses that name as his YM Id. At one point, I asked him what it means by his YM Id. He was surprised that I didn’t know. He told me about him, why he likes Neruda, and most especially, his poems about love.

Months had past; we didn’t communicate anymore. One time, I was sitting on Carmen’s chair. I was finishing up on something. I took a look on her cork board and I noticed a poem. At the lower part of the paper, there was a highlighted name which on that instant, reminded me of Luis. The name was Pablo Neruda and the title of the poem strikes me; “If you forget me…”

I want you to know
one thing.

You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.

If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.

But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine.

Pablo Neruda

The last thing he said to me was “I wish I can forget you.” I didn’t response. I was quiet and didn’t even bother to break the silence but this poem seems like the response I’ve been keeping inside.

No matter what I do, I have never been fully productive on Sundays. It’s really lazy Sunday for me. I bust my ass working from Monday to Saturday, and sometimes, I have work to finish on Sunday, but I could never muster enough strength and sense of intellect on a Sunday. All my work on this day are always halfway done or haphazardly completed. There’s something about Sundays.

I tried to write a proposal.  I tried to post.  I tried to think.  I can’t fully concentrate.  Part of me wants to fight for having a lazy Sunday.  I deserve it.  I worked to hard only to have my Sunday taken away.  So my mind says, “You have work to finish.”  But there’s another voice saying, “It’s lazy Sunday.”

So I end up just surfing the net, hoping that I would get something done in the process.  What about you?  Do you have lazy Sundays?

Last night, Carmen, Vin, our student Erica and her friend Daniel, both from Korea, went to Greenhills to eat and watch a movie.  I thought I would hang out with them since I was fully recuperated from a busy and exhausting week.  We ate at Burgoo’s and watched Eagle Eye at 10:35.

First, I couldn’t believe how expensive watching a movie is now.  We paid Php 180 each.  Only the rich can afford watching movies now.  How sad.  That’s probably the reason why most people would rather buy pirated DVD’s.

What is an “eagle eye”?  The bird’s eye view is a view from the top, wherein the bird can see many things.  The eagle’s eye is much sharper than a typical bird, and therefore, it’s eye view is magnified and is much better.  The eagle eye in the movie is a sophisticated government computer program that has begun to take control of any thing that is electronically wired.  It is programmed to protect the United States.  Ironically, to protect the US, it must also destroy.

Moral dilemmas abound in this film. It was worth the Php 180.  It was great to hang out with Carmen, Vin, Erica, and Daniel as well.  It’s nice to hang out with a different crew once in a while.  Have you seen this movie?  What do you think?

Since arriving to the Philippines a little over a year ago, I have been privileged to travel to the many beautiful parts of this country.  Here are some of the places (cities, provinces) I have gone to, and I can’t wait to travel more.  Photos to follow

Baguio City - Thanks Alice for your family’s hospitality!  This was our first major trip.  I enjoyed Baguio so much more because of the people I traveled with.

Pagudpud - We stayed at my mom’s ancestral house.  We fit almost 30 people there.  I’m from Ilocos Norte, but I’ve never been to Pagudpud.  What an awesome beach!

Vigan - I’ve been to Vigan before; my mom is from Ilocos Sur.  Some of my cousins live here.  We hired seven Kalesas to take us around.  We even landed in a huge zoo!

Batangas - Balai sa Laiya and Anilao.  Resort.  Diving.  First time diving.  It was great.  I want to do it again.

Cavite - It was more of a business trip, but I still enjoyed.  One client invited me to become a commencement speaker at their school graduation.  Another client invited me to become their keynote speaker for their Foundation Day.  Thank you for the gifts.  I didn’t expect it.

Lucena - Several times.  Vin’s uncle’s resort.  Amazing pool.  Great beach.  Great service.  Great company.  I want to go again.

Naga - What a ride!  From Manila to Naga.  Freaky, but worth it.  Especially in the middle of the night, not knowing where you are.  But we made it!  Friend’s graduation.  Friend’s father’s funeral.

Camarines Sur - Damn!  I gotta go again.  I went to do some wakeboarding was twice denied due to events.

Puerto Galera - Great beach, though it doesn’t compare to the beaches in Hawaii, hehe.  Still, I’ll go there again.

Boracay - Wow!  The beach is really, really nice.  I went there with a few friends, but it was just over the weekend.  Too short.  I can’t wait to go again.

I love this country.  There are so many beautiful places.  My brothers sometimes think that this is a “God-forsaken” place, and they envision chaos and ugliness.  I can’t wait for them to visit this beautiful island.

“Car….I, uhm… he would beat me up. I’m a battered girlfriend.”

I stared at my friend. My mozzarella-covered fork with pasta noodles dangling from all sides hanged in mid-air.

For 5 seconds I couldn’t move. And then, I put my fork down.

My friend stared back at me. Her eyes were waiting for me to say something. Instead, I reached out for her hand and gently squeezed it.

Finally, I broke my silence. “Oh… I’m so sorry to hear that.”

————————————————————————————————

My friend is only 5 feet flat; her ex-boyfriend is about 5’10. He is almost twice her size and this picture was running in my head as I listened to her. My eyes started to water.

She says it didn’t just happen one time. The beatings lingered since they lived together. He would flare up whenever she would get into his nerves (whatever that meant) and would resort to physical abuse when words are not enough to unleash his anger.

They worked on projects together as trainors. The guy was a motivational speaker, and girls would swoon over him. It was in India when she finally decided to escape from the clutches of her boyfriend’s “claws”. Penniless and only with her passport in hand she scrambled out of their hotel building and into the streets of Bangalore not knowing where to go. She ran so far away until she thought it was safe to stop. She begged a shop owner to allow her to use the phone for free. Her tears choked her words as she called home (Manila).

———————————————————————————————-

We were at Italianni’s, Greenbelt. My emotions started to drown out the music and the chatter from the other tables. I tried to compose myself lest I breakdown and create a scene. Usually, I would know what to say. But at that moment, nothing came out of me. Just a sigh.

She arrived in Manila with bruises all over her body. Her parents were able to convince her to see a doctor. Yet, she doesn’t want to file for a police report.

The trauma has given her anxiety attacks from time to time. However, my friend claims she is much stronger now. And I’d like to believe it. But I know she will never be the same. There is a dent in her soul.

I am livid. Yet, I do not know who to blame. When I think of her I am also haunted by her past. Her healing is beyond words. I can only give her my silence as she speaks. And before we said good-bye I assured her by saying I don’t think less of her in any way.

She doesn’t know that I shed tears for her whenever she comes to mind.

Ever since I was young, I always had my own room. I moved around a lot when I was growing up, but it was okay with me, as long as I had my own personal space.

Last year, I made the decision to move out of my parents’ house. It was hard for my parents to see me leave, but I felt it was time to move out. It’s so stressful commuting back and forth, Monday to Saturday, for three to four hours a day. It was such a waste of time, money, and energy. Besides the insane traffic and the high cost of commuting, I really wanted to live in Makati, because I’m practically in Makati everyday. I work and hangout in Makati.

I’ve been living in Makati for almost a year now and I now know the disadvantages of sharing a room with someone. I never knew it was so difficult to share a room with someone. It made me think…If I’m having a hard time sharing a room with a woman, how could I survive living with my future husband???

Hmmm….Maybe it was a good idea to try sharing a room with someone before I get married. I think it prepared me for the harsh realities of life. Haha….

But, I’m thinking of moving out soon. I’m looking for a new apartment, also located in Makati. I realized I need to have my own room. It’s okay if I have a housemate, but I don’t want to share a room with anyone, anymore.

Have you ever experienced being a teacher’s pet? What is a teacher’s pet? A teacher’s pet is a teacher’s favorite student.

When I was younger, I always thought that it was unfair when teachers and students became close to each other. Maybe I was jealous or maybe I thought that these students got higher grades or better treatment than the other students, but I felt that it just wasn’t right.

Well… that was then…and now I finally understand why, now that I’m an educator myself.

It’s hard not to become close to some students after spending time getting to know each other.

I love teaching and some students have become very special to me. One of them is the older sister I’ve never had. Her name is Kaye. She was one of my one on one students and I really miss her. She’s very busy being a businesswoman and a mother and she travels a lot outside the country. We haven’t seen each other for a few months now, but we do try to keep in touch. We even went to Seoul together last March and that trip was so fun and amazing!

We met with another one on one student of mine, Moo and his friends, who live in Seoul.I miss them both but regardless of distance and time, both of them will always be special to me.

I am a wedding singer. I have been a wedding singer long before Adam Sandler’s movie came out. Although I hardly have time these days to indulge in this hobby, I still manage to squeeze in one or two in a year.

I started doing this semi-professionally in 1996. But the very first wedding I sang in from start to finish was when I was a freshman in the UP College of Music in 1987. One of my teachers recruited me and 3 other girls in my batch to sing at his friend’s wedding. We were a female quartet — two sopranos and two altos. I was lower alto. We sang at The Archbishop’s Palace in Mandaluyong. Our teacher trained us for about three weeks. I remember singing “What Matters Most,” “Take and Receive,” “Come Saturday Morning,” and “Anima Christi” in four voices. It was awesome! Only because I’ve never sung in a quartet before.

Fast forward to 1996. My friend, Edith, who is also our church organist, and I started playing at weddings in our parish. We’d have gigs almost every week because we tied up with the Parish office and they’d set us up as an option in the church service. We didn’t charge much. It was just pocket money for us. We considered ourselves lucky if the newlyweds would invite us to the reception. But more often than not, we’d just sing at the service.  

Even if we were partners in the biz, there were times Edith wouldn’t be available so I had to sing with whoever the client hired to play the music. No practice needed. I’d just show up at the church with a list of songs requested by the couple, tell the instrumentalists what key I’ll be singing the songs, and off we go. It was practically a jam session and it was a blast. I’ve had the privilege of singing with some of the most popular music groups in the wedding industry — most of whom were also from UP and were part of either the Philippine Philharmonic Orchestra or the Manila Symphonic Orchestra. 

But there were times I had to do double duty — as a wedding singer and as a wedding reception host. It’s fun but it can also get crazy. Not only do I sing in church, but I sing and host the reception. As wedding hostess, sometimes it was my job to think of what will happen during the reception. That part is easy. The challenge is how to make the program interesting. That’s when my wit and humor have to shine. I daresay I’ve done a pretty good job with the hosting part. I guess it’s because I talk with an American accent and that impresses a lot of people. Nyahahaha!

When do I get to eat you ask? After everyuthing’s done! Yup! You heard me right. Usually at the end of the party. Well, not totally at the end. I and whoever else is performing with me get to enjoy the food when the program’s over. By then, we’d get special treatment from the servers. If it’s a buffet, they’d serve us the food. We didn’t have to get it ourselves. Plus, we get to bring home food as an extra special treat!

I’ve sung in a lot of churches in Manila, namely: The Manila Cathedral, San Agustin Church, Santuario de San Antonio in Forbes Park, Santuario de San Jose in Greenhills, The Archbishop’s Palace, Shrine of Jesus, the Way, the Truth, and the Life (also known as the church beside Mall of Asia), Paco Park church, St. James in Ayala Alabang, St. Jerome in Alabnag Town Center, Mt. Carmel in New Manila, Pasig Cathedral, the Nature Church in Las Pinas, Christ the King in Greenmeadows, Church of the Risen Lord in UP Diliman, and other lesser known churches. I’ve also sung in Tagaytay, Bulacan (thanks to Clara of the Mafia!), Dagupan, Baguio, and Batangas. The farthest I’ve sung would be my cousin’s wedding in Los Angeles. That was one of the coolest since my cousin’s cousin brought his string quartet with him. So it was a truly a family affair. And FYI, my cousin’s cousin, Carlo, is part of the White House Orchestra.

I love being a wedding singer. I love making people cry….with happy tears. Someone asked me who I wanted to sing at my wedding - if and when that happens. I told her I’ll record my songs and have it played during the church service and at the reception. Nyahahaha!

Neysa singing \”Ikaw\” at the Nature Church

My two brothers: Joseph and Jerico

Although I don’t have a sister, I’m very content because I have two brothers who consistently give me headaches. ha-ha! They are very funny and nice. We don’t have same interests but somehow we manage to bond as friends.

My big brother, Joseph has his own family now and has two kids. What I like about him is even though I curse him a lot he always shows patience for me. He’s sweet too in some ways. He stopped attending 3rd year high for one year. So when I enrolled in 3rd year high he decided to continue his studies then we became classmates. It was a total sorehead for me because he was so stubborn and he would talk back to our teachers. Come on! How difficult it can be?!.

What’s funny is he was my number one fan in our class. Whenever I got a good recitation he would shout ,”that’s my sister!”. Whenever we checked our papers he would check mine and would write short notes like “Sis! you’re so good!”. When we had quizzes he would sit beside me and would ask for answers. One time we got caught and he made good excuse; I ended up doing his assignments too. He was crazy!

On a happy note, his friends would always come to me and would tell me that I’m lucky because my brother loves me. He always mentioned that he cared for me a lot to his friends. That was very touching. Whenever I see my big brother It’s either I laugh or frown because he always teases me. However, he’s important to me as well.

Jerico is a quiet and shy type of person. He doesn’t show affection to anyone, only to his girlfriend maybe. But I can sense whenever he’s worried or concerned about anyone of us. He always asks favors of me which sometimes irritates me because he won’t stop until he gets me to do what he asked.

On another note, what I love about him is he cooks for me. He often serves me my dinner. When he eats I would ask him to serve me food and he’ll do it. That’s sweet for me: I have an instant cook and waiter!

I do not talk to him when he’s mad because when he’s mad, HE is REALLY mad. I let him cool off first before I crack a joke. He gets mad when I jokingly ask him to hook me up with one of his friends. Is that his way of protecting me?! That may seem weird; I appreciate it though.

So, those are my brothers I love them both. When I was a little girl I didn’t play any girls games. I would learn to play whatever games my brothers were playing. For example basketball, I loved to play basketball with them. I remember I chose to be in a girls basketball team rather than be in a cheering squad. I learned a bit from my brothers, but It wasn’t my interest at all. My parents thought I would grew up to be a tomboy. I thought so too, until I met my childhood love when I was 11. I thought he was my everything! He was my first crush, turned into a bf, my first kiss and I’ve got my heart broken for the first time. That was a puppy love.

My Nephew

His name is John Joseph. He is a very cute and a smart little boy. He looks Chinese because of his chinese looking eyes. He’s also sweet and he would always lean his head on my shoulder and hug me.
Whenever I bring him food he jumps for joy and would shout, “yay! wow!” which eases my tiredness. He has very sweet smile, and when I stare at him It’s like looking at an angel.

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On my way home last night my attention was drawn to the AM frequency radio show the taxi driver was tuned in to.

It wasn’t the typical tele-novela drama drivers usually listen to at night (makes me wonder if there are radio drama shows during the day?). It wasn’t about love, or betrayal, or we-have-no-food-on-the-table-gotta-borrow-money-or-else-we-die kind of thing. Nope.

The theme of the story had something to do with a Filipino astronaut and his spaceship.

Whoa!

Scene 1: Little boy, who was the son of the astronaut, praying for his father that he be back on earth safe.. and that he misses his father so much for being away for a long time and that he’s so proud of him…then finally, goes to sleep.

Scene 2: Filipino astronaut having discussion with his fellow astronauts (of different nationalities) telling them how the “future” has actually broken down barriers and distance since the dawn of space age. That he was proud to be a Filipino and feels responsible in promoting peace “on earth” as he looks down below him the grandeur of nature and how he should do something to protect the environment..

At first I let out a snicker, I was thinking to myself “what the…?”. I cannot even begin to imagine a Filipino astronaut, how much more a spaceship that’s made in the Philippines!

Maybe I’m being cynical. Forgive me. But who knows, right? Hey, it all starts with a dream. And perhaps the dream of the writer of that radio show. Who am I to shoot his dream?

Now the thought is stuck in my head. I hope somewhere in this country, a young boy or girl is dreaming of becoming the first Filipino astronaut. Yeah, and why not a spaceship that’s made in the Philippines?

Maybe it will not happen in my lifetime. But now I dream of it.