red ink, hard liquor, food and family

A good buddy of mine recently celebrated his birthday. We've known each other since we were in grade school and have suffered and enjoyed the same tumbles and initiations of early life. Along with two other friends, we watched ourselves as we all marched into manhood.

He had prepared everything for us to be drunk kings and hooligans. Home cooked meals that gave warmth to our bellies and the heart as well. His family had moved to Baliuag and since then, we haven't seen his family as often as we did back in our younger days.

To say that the night we spent over at their place is an understatement. We drank, ate and laughed our asses. His mom and pop welcomed us like we were long lost children, telling us how much they've missed us and recounted the stories of old. His mother even served us a meal that was very special for us since we always had the same good food for our new year cookout: carbonara with white sauce and bacon bits. It was such a nice feeling. They are all good folks, my buddy's family, they are.

Slowly, it dawned to me, after the haze of alcohol that we all enjoyed so much and the brotherhood that we've shared throughout the years we knew each other: we were men now but kids in us never left.

I just hope that it stays the same. Sometimes, there are just things that are not meant to change.

We are currently waiting for the fourth guy to get back home for a vacation in the coming month. We already miss him and our guts are ready for another all nighter. 

Act like gentlemen, drink like motherfuckers.

black march

Hindi ko na sasabihing kawawa ang mga naiwan ni Kristel Tejada sa kaniyang paglisan sa pisikal na mundo. Hindi ko na rin sasabihing malaki ang pagkukulang ng Unibersidad sa kanilang pagpapalakad sa dapat ay maayos na sistema ng pagtingin ng kakayahan upang makapagbayad ng matrikula. Tapos na ang usaping iyon para sa akin dahil wala na nga si Kristel. Naupos siya ng mga pagkukulang at kamalian sa kasalukuyang panahon. Naupos siya nang hindi inaasahan at sa maagang panahon.

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March 19, 2013

Mali talaga ang nangyari sa kaso nni Kristel. Isa itong classic na halimbawa ng kawalan ng hustisya sa bansa na pilit na kinukubli ng mga nasa puwesto at siya rin namang todo romantisado ng ibang mga taong putok bunganga lang sa isyu ngunit walang tunay na pagkakaintindi rito. Hindi sana nawala si Kristel kung nakahanap siya ng pera pangmatrikula, hindi rin sana nasisi ang kasalukuyang pamahalaan ng Unibersidad sa pangyayaring ito pero andito na nga. Nawalan ng isang prospektibong mamamayan at mag-aaral ang bansa dahil sa napakaraming dahilan na hindi naman talaga maaaring ilista bilang buong katotohanan at solidong katibayan.

Mahirap magsabi na "Sana hindi siya namatay kung may hustisya talaga sa loob ng paaralan" at mahirap ding banggitin na "Sana maganda ang pamamalakad sa loob ng Unibersidad at maintindihan ang [tunay] na kalalagayan ng mga estudyante." Sa tingin ko, hindi naman ganoon ang nararapat na istilo sa pagharap sa kasalukuyang mga pangyayari. Hindi na nga maibabalik ang buhay ng Iskolar na nilagutan ng isang bote ng silver cleaner at sa ganuong perspektibo ay dapat hindi na rin husgahan ang labanan. 

Hindi nga naman maibabalik ng diskurso si Kristel ngunit isa itong daan upang maiwasan ang pagkakaroon ng panibagong kasong tulad nito. Maraming mga estudyante sa Unibersidad ang nangangapa sa mga salat na bulsa para makapagbayad ng tuition, at hindi lang sa U.P. ito naging problema at karanasan. Laganap. Sa pamamagitan ng pagbababa ng pulitikal na motibo at personal na interes ay magagawan ng paraan ang pagkukulang na ito sa parehong perspektibo: mag-aaral at Unibersidad.

Naging matalino lang sana ang mga tao sa pagharap sa pagkawala ni Kristel. Kung hindi man maging matalino ay maging mapag-unawa sa pangyayari. Hindi tanga si Kristel dahil kinitil niya ang sariling buhay. Hindi rin naman walang puso ang Unibersidad dahil hindi nakapag-enroll si Kristel. Ang pagbabaling ng sisi sa kung kanino at kung saan saan ay nakakainsulto lang sa pagkawala ni Kristel.

Hindi madaling mag-apply sa STFAP. Alam ko yun dahil nasubukan kong gawin nang isang beses at hindi na ako nakaulit pa dahil naging mas mahirap ang application process nito noong sumunod na taon. Marami na ngang mga mayayamang estudyante ang nakakapasok sa Unibersidad at dapat lang nga na magbayad sila ng mas mataas na matrikula base sa kinikita ng kanilang mga magulang. To each his own. Isang problema kasi ay maraming sagabal sa pagbabayad ng matrikula: 

kawalan ng impormasyon - hindi alam ng mga estudyante na mayroong alternatibo para makapag-enroll
gabutas ng karayom na screening process - mahirap ang application at approval system sa STFAP
otomatikong paglalagay sa mga bagong Iskolar sa default bracket
kawalan ng installment plan sa pagbabayad ng matrikula
kung mayroon mang student loan, maiksi ang oras para mabayaran ito o di kaya'y wala namang guarantor para dito
student loan nga pero kulang ang pondo kaya hindi rin mabigyan ang karamihan sa mga nag-aapply rito

Opinyon ko ang mga nasulat sa taas. Maraming maaaring gawing paraan upang mailigtas ang napakaraming Kristel sa ating bansa. Gupo, talunan, walang laban.. iilan lamang sa mga salitang maaaring gamitin upang sumahin ang kaganapang ito na nagpailing, nagpaiyak, nagpagalit at nagpakilos sa maraming estudyante, guro, magulang, kapatid at kamag-anak.

Sa pagpanaw ni Kristel ay nasama ang pag-asa ng magulang sa maaaring naging maganda at matagumpay na karera nito sa pagtatapos sa Unibersidad. Ngunit isang kolektibo ng aral, ideya at paniniwala naman ang naging kapalit nito. Malaki ang naging bayad para matuto, makinig at maniwala ang mga tao sa paulit-ulit na pangyayaring ito. Nagkaroon ng pangngalan at mukha ang suliraning iyon. Sa tingin ko, ang kasalanan lang sa buong pangyayari ay hindi nabigyan ng patas na laban si Kristel. 

Mailap ang magandang baraha kung may nag-iipit nito. Madali ring magsabi na nadaya ka kahit na walang pruweba. Minsan naman, kailangan mo lang magbalasa kahit hindi ka marunong lalo't kailangan na.

feels like a school essay graded 3.0 for effort

Every era has its own shining moment in history. That is somewhat what the history books of old elementary schools have in their pages. Somewhere, somehow, sometime in the history of the world, the young have something to do that is quite worthy to be put in the history books. 

I have been born during the time of modernization of television, new strategies in show business and the ever so interesting Philippine-endemic practice of block timing. Along with others who grew used to doing siestas in the afternoon and waking up to the familiar smell of instant pancit canton at home and banana cue from the kanto. It is a world where in the summer heat is battled by the cooling effects of halo-halo and ice candy wrapped in cheap but elastic plastic tubes. Those were back in the time when environmentalism was just a grand myth and the effects of a slowly grilling earth were just a seasonal thing.

It is good to relive the wonders and joys of youth, though my generation is not as old as it thinks it is. My generation belongs to the population of young adults trapped in the transition of growing up and leave the things of youth. At the same time being hushed during the discussion of the older generations since we are all but “young” people and we should not interrupt the “grown ups” when they are talking. It is as ambiguous as it gets: we yearn to grow old when we’re young and we yearn to stay young as we get old. Maybe that’s the reason why many cling to the hope of reading the articles written for the twenty-somethings.

My generation is awake and asleep at the same time. Personally, I would have wanted to try and live in the earlier years when television was as bland as the limited colors and resolutions it offered. It is fun to imagine what it felt like in the earlier years seen in old photographs and all. I bet it was fun to live in an age when you can still be considered as something relevant and original. We sleep just to dream of being relevant but many of us wake up to the fact that we are not as close as we dreamt to be.

I personally felt that it was better for the older folks in terms of almost everything: culture, beliefs, advocacy and what not. Though I really think that my generation is lucky enough to see the forthcoming liberation of the genders and sexualities that the old world had always shunned and persecuted. I am just wondering where my generation’s First Quarter Storm has gone? It is good to know that yesterday’s youth (today’s old) worked hard for what we now enjoy. Sometimes it is just surprising to see how “today” continues to turn out.

How come we are stuck in an age where everything is being served up almost instantly though everything loses its flavour and sizzle even before they are even served?

It may have something to do with being an “old soul” though it is hard enough to live with all the amenities available to us at the tips of our fingers. It just feels like the integrity of our reality lies at the mercy of applications on our smart phones, consumer research and transient belief systems.

I am sure many who belong to my generation are doing things to change the way it is right now. It is good to know that there are still people who try. Maybe this is just a natural reaction, hardwired to my generation that is trying to figure out what to do with this gift of young age. It still beats trying to figure out what to order at a high end coffee joint and which picture of that beverage to be put up on Instagram. My generation is better than that.

i need a list on my arms

Today, I am again reminded of how reading takes you to the place you least expect to be and yet feel that it was a needed shove.

I cover paper with words every day,
But the stories never go anywhere
I find worth going.

-Timequake by Kurt Vonnegut Jr.
Chapter 11, page 45

I remember saying this to a loved one recently. I told her that I do write but it sort of still sucks and depresses the shit out of me that I haven't written anything that goes out to where I want it to be. The exchange came over a cup of coffee, recent memories, feels and slight realizations. 

She said that I know that I am good at what I do and that is what separates me from her. I refuse to accept that statement.

She is lovely. I always forget to tell her that. 

Today I am reminded again of how much I refuse to learn the essential things. I need to close my eyes to the superficial as I feel more mundane than I was yesterday. I am also reminded of how the creases on her eye lids have smeared the emerald tint of her liner.

I need to go back into loving things, people and the prospect of tomorrow. I need to be reminded always and it sucks.

pantyhosed

“A man is not old until regrets replace dreams.”  -John Barrymore

Photo credits: Clayton Cubitt.

Visit the man's colossal pinboard of interesting finds and perspective here.

I've been thinking of creating a Tumblr account for a while now. My friend suggested the thing when I told him he was already famous on the site (among poets and literature peeps) and he is. He suggested that I'd get better reach when it came to audience. Though, I thought, I have all the audience I need in this personal space.

Tumblr has a certain thing for anonymity. The mysterious and the hidden at the same time being exposed and extroverted. Everything is projected outward but with a black strip to mask identities. Clayton Cubitt is not one of those fellas on Tumblr.

He puts out, not in the perverse way. His photographs show just that and his head on approach to the usual secrets in the real world. Gritty, dirty, flashy, real, rigid and starkly familiar. You can say that it's a bit hipster, meh, everyone has his two cents about everything.

I've been following his work for more than 5 months now. And I can say that I highly enjoy his works and his class. Dirty classy.

I especially like the way he connects his photographs with quotations from people I haven't even heard of. It is a diverse collective. His photographs look larger than life but occur within the dimensions as they do.