Ang Sabi Ko Sa Iyo

Ang Sabi Ko Sa Iyo

Bumalong ang dagta

Sa hiniwang kaymito.

Namuo sa talim

Ng kutsilyo ang ilang patak.

Diyan ako naiwan, mahal,

At hindi sa laman.

 

                          Benilda S. Santos

For More Grossness

Say it isn’t true, Rufa Mae! Waaaaaah, did you REALLY go to Hong Kong with Mike Arroyo? The news reports say you did. Napatambling talaga ako. They were seated daw beside each other in first class. Rufa Mae says it was entirely by coincidence, pero weird naman. Shouldn’t FG have some sort of a close-in bodyguard/boy Friday? And do people really get to sit beside the husband of the President by sheer luck of the draw? People who happen to be sexy leggy artistas?

My objection isn’t even entirely political. Basta, nakakadiri lang talaga. How do you have sex with a tub of lard ba? Like someone once said (specifically… me. just now. haha.), some girls like bad boys, others like bad cholesterol.

Sheht hindi ko na maalis sa utak ko. Parang screensaver sa utak — a heaving, humping FG. Kailangan galawin na ang mouse. Fast.

She’s Going Down

The man in the throes of death, my war veteran grandfather once said, is in truth the most ruthless. Incapable of strategy or design, he fires off one blow after another indiscriminately and savagely. Hitting everyone and no one, buoyed by the kind of crazed determination reserved for the dying. And then slowly, he succumbs to the peace of death.

How else can you describe the machinations of the GMA administration in the middle of this crisis but the pathetic flailing of a battered regime down on its knees? They get wind of news that a whistleblower is bent on telling the truth, they send agents of the state to whisk him away as he steps out of the airplane and then believe they can get away with it by making him sign a false affidavit. In order to take some steam off the Senate hearings, the Office of the Ombudsman (quite incidentally, headed by a former classmate of the First Gentleman) suddenly and mysteriously roused itself from its lethargy to conduct a preliminary investigation on the ZTE deal. Then the Supreme Court ruled that anyone, anywhere can play the Garci tapes and need not fear sanction. Flooring everyone with his profound understanding of the rule of law, the Justice Secretary staunchly declared that regardless of the ruling of the Supreme Court, it is still illegal to play the tapes. And now we see that pathetic unity walk reminiscent of Erap’s infamous walk-cum-boksing weeks before he was kicked out of office.

They’re floundering, she’s floundering — and with good reason. The anger is building up, like the roar of crashing waves. I was in the big mobilization in Makati, in the mass at La Salle Greenhills, at the Ateneo for the noise barrage and the outrage is palpable. $130million kickback at a time of great poverty and hunger is not just obscene, it is graphically so.

But GMA’s problem, to my mind, is the fact that the only allies she has left are those who profit materially and DIRECTLY from her continued stay in power. Pity indeed, the ruler whose support is based on purchase and transaction. Hitler had people who shared what he believed in, however warped. George Bush has his hawks who maintain that a war in Iraq is not only necessary, it is also moral. Ferdinand Marcos — while he had his cronies who profited hugely from the 20-year dictatorship — had a loyal cabal who fiercely believed that Martial Law was the correct trajectory to development.

Gloria, in contrast, runs a government that pays in order to continue existing. It is leadership with strings attached. And like all men who sleep with whores know, transactional gratification carries no promises of forever.

“Anyone Else But You”

“Here is the church and here is the steeple… we sure are cute for two ugly people…”

Possibly one of the sweetest love songs ever.  From the movie “Juno”.

28.5

28.5 is the size of my waist when I had it measured the other day. We have a big contest going on these days in CARET, my favorite agrarian reform NGO: each contestant pays P500, gets his or her waist measured and four months from now, whoever lost the most from his or her waistline gets to take home the entire pot.

Golda and I agreed that this is exactly the motivation that we need. I am viciously competitive when I have to be, and I am deadset on winning.

Mehn, tingnan nyo naman ito. Kapanic.

2006.

2008.

The second picture was sent to me by Gus last week — chiefly because he wanted to demonstrate that sa picture namin di daw nakaakbay sa akin yung crush niya na si Levy, pero sa picture nilang dalawa, nakaakbay. I gasped out loud when I saw the pic, not for the same reason Gus gasped (and moaned and quivered) out loud when he saw HIS pic, but because it was the final confirmation that I had indeed left the safe, happy world of X-tra small.

I know, I know, we should all be accepting of our bodies and love ourselves and all those other Body Shop mantras — and I would, if I knew that this weight gain is not the result of many nights of mindless gorging, San Mig light chugging, midnight snacking, frappuccino-guzzling (naks, yaman, starbucks..).

And to those who think I’m anorexic, just so you know, this still bothers me. As I am sure it will bother you too. Click it.

I just want to go down from 28.5 to 24. That’s the goal. Kaya ko ito. Suportahan nyo ako. Walang basagan ng trip.

The Ex Files: A Valentine Entry

  A few nights ago, some friends asked me who my favorite ex was. I was stumped and hard-pressed to give a reply, so I said that I had no favorite, that all of them were special during the period of our relationship, but that in all cases, there were valid reasons that made the relationship untenable. Joan DV did her great EX list sometime back, and I’ve been thinking about coming up with my own list too last year but too much was going on for me at the time, relationship-wise.

But since I’m now in “I can see clearly now the rain has gone” mode, I’m thinking, why not? I don’t want to focus on the bad parts, though. That stuff is over now and whatever resentment or hurt or even guilt that I used to feel, it’s all perma-sealed in a rusty old baul, never to be reopened again. 

Boyfriend A, to put it very simply, swept me off my feet. Period. I was eighteen and in College, I wore short shorts and tsinelas to school, sometimes forgot to comb my hair, and devoured one issue after another of The Economist, Time and Newsbreak in order to win debate tournaments. I had zero experience being treated like a princess. Then Boyfriend A came and he made me feel so special. Flowers and chocolates and care packages lovingly put together. But more than that, more than the material stuff, it was the love letters. He wrote the most beautiful love letters of them all, and crafted words that made me swoon. A marriage proposal soon followed – quite overwhelming for a girl of eighteen, without a college degree yet. The breakup with Boyfriend A was the most awful of all the breakups, but these are not things that should be dwelt on  at this time. I will always remember the happy and heady times fondly.

Boyfriend B, I met when the environmental organization I interned for in law school sponsored an earth day concert and got him to be one of the singers for the event. We started talking. And talking and talking. And talking some more. He got my thoughts, values and ideas, put them in a Petri-dish and held them up against the light – challenging me like I’ve never been challenged before. He’s romantic too, as I suppose all artists are, but it wasn’t so much the romance as it was his ability to stimulate and provoke me. And like I always tell everyone, in large measure, he was responsible for the life-direction I have chosen.

Boyfriend C made me laugh the hardest. It was a relationship fraught with, shall we say, challenges from the get-go and there were so many reasons to walk out, but I stayed for some length of time. At the end of the day, the reason was simple: no one – absolutely no one – could cheer me up after a bad day better than he could. He was forgetful and unfocused and sometimes incoherent, but he cared for me in the best way he knew how. We laughed together, at each other, with the world, at the world. Yes, I was happy.

I’ve moved on from these relationships already, so I think it’s safe to wax nostalgic because there’s no pang of longing, no more wishing to go back and recapture whatever it was that was lost. I thank these men for making me happy and for loving me during the period that we were together. Because of these three relationships, I have a better idea of what I want. And my bottomlines are steadfastly in place.  I know that “good love is on its way” and Im ready to hold out for that. There’s no rush. Steady lang.

Someone asked me out for Valentine’s Day. I’m not ashamed to say I’m not ready yet to get back on the serious dating scene (somehow, dating on Valentine’s day seems so.. serious). This will be the first time in a long time that I will be celebrating Valentine’s Day completely unattached and I am so looking forward to a long happy night with my girl friends, drinking San Miguel beer and downing plateful upon plateful of sinful spicy sisig.

Awww…

Sad.

Moving.

Funny.

And the best of all, at least for me (but you won’t find this in the website) –

From www.postsecret.com

Check out this video from the post secret people too.

Whistle for the Whistleblower*

Friends, whistle for the whistleblower.

(picture from www.inquirer.net)

After a slew of compromised “heroes” — most recently a former Speaker fallen from grace denouncing Malacanang in a fire-and-brimstone speech where, for all the bombast, the word that comes to mind is “laglagan” — we now have in our midst a person of extraordinary courage and integrity. He’s not disgruntled about being eased out of power (JDV) or complaining about not getting enough of the spoils (Chavit), Jun Lozada simply is an ordinary Filipino who saw evil and called it what it is.

Of everything, however, that has been revealed during that hours-long testimony (and there have been many revelations), what hurt the most was when Lozada quoted an emissary of the powers-that-be as having taunted him, “Akala mo ba may pakialam ang bayan sa iyo?”

And in that one simple line, a stinging indictment. They know, then. They know that they have succeeded in maiming us. They have built an entire empire with our apathy and indifference as their cornerstones.

Today we call from wherever we are, at the top of our voices, from our rooftops, from the streets, from that part of our hearts that still believe that a better world is possible: Nagkakamali sila, Jun Lozada. May pakialam ang bayan sa iyo. We will not allow them to hurt you, we will not allow them to silence you, we will fight for the truth that blinds with its glorious light.

Mabuhay po kayo, Ser.

* mobilization call of the Freedom from Debt Coalition.

Isang Blog Entry na Malupet

Sa dami ng mga stress ko sa buhay at sa trabaho, hindi na dapat makadagdag sa stress ko ang hindi pagsusulat ng bagong blog entry. Eh ano naman kung ang laki ng intervals between entries? Eh ano naman kung yung best friend ko ay bigla nalang blog ng blog? Eh ano naman kung ang latest entry ko ay youtube na Sesame Street (kasi nga naman pang-sesame street ang blog ko, mababaw lang palagi…) na cut and paste lang at walang kaeffort effort?

Feeling ko ang banu-bano ko these days. Wala talaga ako masulat eh. Ano ba susulatin ko? Yung nangyaring elite-cockfighting sa mababang kamara nung Lunes? Siguro naman kilala nyo na ako at ma-aanticipate niyo na opinyon ko at pag maglabas ako ng entry in serious english (the withering — nay, the decay — of our democratic institutions shpluk shpluk shpluk) may hihirit sa akin sa YM ng “ang haba ng sinulat mo, di ko natapos, sulat ka nalang tungkol sa mga ex mo.”

Pero ano na ngang topic? Ash Wednesday? Kung Hei Fat Choi? Valentines day?

Ewan ko. Slightly malungkot ako at slightly lutang. Had an argument over the weekend that I’ve yet to recover rfom. Parang yung feeling after napadami ka ng tira ng mami sa Kowloon House at nagoverdose ka ng MSG. May bulak sa ulo. Ayun, wala akong masulat ng matino, kasi nga I feel so unfocused. Haaaay.

Share ko nalang text ng high school teacher ko, yung nabanggit ko dati na lagi nagfoforward ng mga messages sa akin (at marahil sa lahat ng dating estudyante niya na may number sya — nakaUNLI siguro. haha. masaya ang unli. UNLI in the pilipins. labo, mehn. see? lutang.) Para may saving grace naman tong blog entry na ito at may kaunting literary flavor. He sent this, I think, this morning. Habang nagtetreadmill ako.

(Commercial break: ang sarap mag-gym ng early evening. Kasabay ng Wheel of Fortune ni Kris Aquino. Sabay sabay kayo nasa elliptical machine, isang hanay, tapos contest kayo sagutin yung mga tanong Kris. Syempre, dahil ako ay ahem, isang PROMIL CHILD, ako lagi una nakakahula. At sasabihin ko ng malakas ang sagot, i.e., “SHEHT! Siamese Fighting Fish!!” Minsan may kasama pang ‘tanga’ hurled towards the contestant. Ie, “SHEHT, Siamese Fighting Fish…. TANGA!” Oh yes, ako ang Wheel of Fortune Queen ng Better Bodies Gym, Matalino St., Barangay Central, Quezon City.)

Teka, mabalik tayo sa quote. Sa ating literary nugget in 160 characters.

“The best thing, though, in that museum was that everything always stayed right where it was. Nobody’d move, nobody different. The only thing different is you.” – Holden Caulfield. (JD Salinger, Catcher in the Rye).

O-ha?

* * *

Kung Hei Fat Choi! Lapit na midnight. Sabi ng officemate ko, dapat daw magsuot ng red na panty at the stroke of midnight. Gusto ko lang sabihin, hindi pala gumagawa ang so-en ng cotton granny panty na ang kulay ay crimson red. Kasi naisip ko, malamang natutulog na ako nun, so dapat yung komportableng panty. But no. Di pala pwede ganun. Bakit? Bawal ba magsuot ng hot sexy red ang mga manang na madaling magka-kabag pag nilalamig ang punson? Mali yun. Everyone has a right to red.

Lupet. Ang profound ng insight.

Classic Sesame Street

Ayan. Happy Sunday.