Sa Aking Paggising

Gumising ako ngayong araw na masama ang pakiramdam. Hindi dahil sa masakit yung likod ko. Hindi din dahil sa sobrang lamig ngayong mga araw na ito. Gumising ako pero sa isang banda, ayokong gumising. Naisip ko, isang araw na naman ang nagdaan - isang araw na walang kabuluhan.

Noong bata ako, nangarap akong maging abogado. Ngunit sa pagtanda ko, nakita ko na hindi lang pala ganun kasimple ang pagtupad sa mga pangarap - nagbabago ang mga plano, namamatay ang mga taong akala natin habang buhay nating makakasama, at madalas lumilipas ang oras ng hindi natin namamalayan. Hindi pala lahat ng tao na mabait sa 'tin ay talagang mabait at hindi lahat ng kaibigan ay magiging tapat. Nalaman ko na madalas tayong madadapa at hindi lahat ng sugat ay naghihilom. Minsan pwede mo ngang takpan ng bandaid pero hindi ibig sabihin ay basta na lang itong mawawala. Madalas, akala natin may kasama pa tayo pero hindi natin namamalayan, magisa na lang pala tayo at ang mga pangarap na binuo natin noon ay naglaho na sa ngayon.

Kaya nakontento na lang ako na makatapos ng kolehiyo at magpanggap na abogado habang nakikipagdebate sa mga kaibigan tungkol sa kasarian ni Piolo Pascual at kung tatangkad pa ba si GMA. Hindi na ko naniniwalang mabibilhan ko ng bahay at lupa ang nanay ko. Hindi ko din naman inasahan na sa pagtanda ko eh hindi na pala buo ang pamilya namin. Para ano pa? Hindi na din ako umaasang mapagtatapos ko ng kolehiyo and mga kapatid ko. Tingin ko naman, ayaw na din nilang magaral at mas bagay sa kanila ang maging gangster. At ang lalaking mahal ko, hindi na ko naniniwalang babalik siya, kaya ba't pa ako magaantay? Sayang lang ang makeup.

Pero ngayon, ang buhay ko isang malaking doughnut - butas sa gitna. Lahat ng ginagawa ko ngayon, wala ng saysay. Gumigising na lang ako dahil sa nagigising ako at hindi dahil may mga pangarap akong gustong tuparin, hindi dahil may mga tao akong gustong pasayahin at hindi dahil sa may kabuluhan ang buhay ko. Marahil aantayin ko na lang ang araw na hindi na ako gigising pa, at kung tatanungin ako ng Diyos kung sakali mang makakarating ako sa langit - "Anong ginawa mo sa buhay na pinagkaloob ko sa iyo?" Marahil ang isasagot ko lang ay isang malaking question mark.

Ngunit bakit ko nga ba hahayaang mangyari ito? Oo nga lahat ng bagay nagbabago pero may mga ibang bagay na hindi. Exactly my point, ano pa nga bang saysay ng buhay kung sasabay ka lang sa agos nito? Kailangan mong hanapin ang daang tatahakin mo, patuloy na mangarap para magkaroon ng inspirasyon at masaktan para matutong magmahal muli. Hindi tayo nabubuhay para maging robot lang at maging sunud-sunuran sa paniniwala ng ibang tao o sa dinidikta ng ating kultura o komunidad. Nabubuhay tayo para mangarap, magmahal at lumikha ng mga bagay na makubuluhan. At pag dumating ang araw na makaharap natin Siya may maisasagot tayo, "Madami akong nagawa sa buhay ko."

When life has meaning, you can bear almost anything. Without it, nothing is bearable.

The Free Sprit

I dont know if this is normal or if it’s only brought about by hormonal imbalance or PMS. But this has been bugging me for days now. Months actually.

I always believed that I am the kind of person that cannot be caged. I love to be free, i hate rules, i hate monotony. I love to be random, unpredictable - spontaneous. But I also know that it’s practically impossible in this life. Or in my life at least.

My life has been governed by rules; bawal kumain ng kendi - masisira ang ngipin, bawal umabsent, bawal manood hanggang hating-gabi, bawal magtelebabad, bawal magkalat.
Up until now... bawal umalis ng hindi naglilinis ng bahay, bawal magkaboyfriend ng hindi naayon sa standards ng "Familia Zaragozza", bawal magasawa hanggat hindi nakakabili ng bahay at lupa para sa nanay, bawal ang gumimik ng walang paalam, bawal bumukod ng bahay, bawal maging makasarili.

All my life - I’ve been living for other people. I live my life to fulfill their dreams, to make them happy, to make myself what they think I should be. I am so fucking tired of living this life when all I want to be is free. (Naks parang kanta…)

If I had my way, I’ll just live in a secluded island. Perhaps with the guy my Mom warned me about. I’ll just spend each afternoon reading a book or sleeping or maybe trying to learn how to swim instead of answering calls. I wanna break free. Hindi ko maintindihan kung bakit parang napacomplicated ng buhay eh pwede namang maging hindi. Bakit hindi nila makita?

I wanna be selfish. Ilang beses ko na bang sinabi yan sa sarili ko. Ilang New Year’s Resolution na. This year I promise that I will love myself more. I will learn to say no more often. I will fight for myself and for what I truly believe in. Pero hindi pa rin. I still feel that a part of me is locked up in a cage.

So ano nga bang ending ng entry ko na ito… hayyy ewan ko.

by: Karissa
Monday, August 28th, 2006


Yes, that was me 2 years ago. I was one of the many struggling call center agents who is kept awake in the wee hours of the morning by 3 mugs of coffee or so. My routine back then was go to work, sleep (in the girl's sleeping quarters), go to school, go home, sleep (in my bedroom), eat, take a bath, curse myself for being late while rushing to log on my Avaya and work again. I missed a lot of things back then because I was always sleeping. When my brother punched my cousin and my cousin's tooth got knocked out... I was sleeping. I didn't have a single idea my youngest brother was having issues at home... because I was sleeping. When my cousin won the horserace and gave out 500-peso bills, I got nothing because (guess what?) I was sleeping.

I didn't have the time and financial freedom back then and so I had no choice but to depend on my family, most especially my Grandpa who's like a five-star general in terms of the way he commands everyone to behave (straight body, stomach in-chest out, hair neatly tied up in a ponytail, no nail polish, no jewelries, no skirt, no boys, no phone calls, etc.). I wanted to be free but at the same time, I couldn't afford it. Living on my own means more expenses, no flat screen TV, no AC, no big house, no food I could steal for my midnight urges and no ice cream every Sunday. With my meager income, I was just making enough. Until he almost threw me out of the house. That's when I realize that I am responsible for my own freedom. If I rely on someone - I will never be free. If I base my happiness on others, my dreams, my expectations... I will always be locked up in an invisible cage.

Breaking free doesn't end there. Freedom also means being being responsible for your own fate, setting your own rules and believing in your principles. Freedom means blaming yourself and not other people when things don't go your way. Freedom will always come with a price. But it's a price worth fighting for. (Ay teka? Nov pa lang ba? Akala ko June 12 na - Independence day hahahaha)

This was a line I read from Tuesdays with Morrie:

The people who get on in this life are the people who look for the circumstances they want. And if they can't find them, they make them.

So ano nga bang ending ng entry ko na ito…

I now know.

I'm still not in a secluded island and not with a tanned, shirtless guy. I'm not spending each afternoon resting my ass off or trying to learn how to swim. But I have broken free and I have gained a deeper perspective on what it means. I'm no longer living at my Grandpa's house but rather in a small room with no AC and no flat screen. I pay for my expenses and more. I found the perfect job which gives me the financial and time freedom I've always wanted. I wake up anytime I want and I can go out without making an elaborate plan on how to escape.

I can do more and be more because I know at the end of the day I only have myself to thank or blame.

The Swan

I was approached by a friend of mine asking me if I could help her with her makeover. I don't know why. Perhaps, it's because I'm the most kikay amongst our circle of friends or maybe because I look like I have nothing else to do. Lol.

"Do you think I have a chance at this?" She asked.

"Of course."

Kung ako nga namakeover, ikaw pa kaya.



The tale of the stick-thin nerd and the baston pants

I used to be one of the more popular students in class, I had lots of friends and I was almost a teacher's pet. Then things suddenly turned upside down. I got accelerated to Grade 5, my Dad died, my mom had a row with my Grade 5 teacher, I had to wear eyeglasses and acne started growing all over my face. I was depressed, demoralized and oh, so flat-chested. It didn't help that I barely knew my classmates. Me and the two others who got accelerated were sort of made into outcasts because well, they thought we didn't belong there. My classmates made fun of me ALL THE FUCK*NG TIME. At home was almost the same thing. My dad was gone and there was no one to defend me and lift my spirits up. You see, my dad has always given me an ego boost. He tells me I'm the prettiest of all (when my sister's not listening), he tells me I sing like a nightingale (even though everyone disagrees) and that he is always proud of me. When he died, I lost all that - including my self-confidence. My grades started to drop, I became insecure of my appearance and when my classmates tell me how stupid I look, I almost believed them (how stupid!).

Then came high school.

I thought things will be different.

And it did.

Only, it got a lot worse.

Freshman at QueSci, 1997

As if being stick-thin was not enough, I had a skin allergy back when I was in first year. Whereas my classmates called me "bangkay" (corpse), they started calling me "naaagnas na bangkay" (rotting corpse). Looking back now, it was so funny but back then I felt like not going to school anymore. I didn't have a lot of friends. I was always left out, when it was time to group the class into teams, no one wanted to take me. My classmates would deliberately hit me with crumpled papers, switch my softdrinks with one that is already a week old and so on. I was so broke, too. After our lunchtime, I would ask my classmates for their empty coke bottles and exchange them for coins at our canteen. I never had money to buy the things that I want. I only had one pants - the "baston", which everyone was fond of because I look horrible in it. My favorite shirt was a loose LA Lakers shirt which is full of holes because of ant bites (don't ask me why the hell is that) and my shoes were flat, pointed and were one size bigger. There was this one time we had to wear skirts and I opted for a mini skirt, a girl classmate of mine (let's call her Miss M) said I should NEVER IN MY LIFE WEAR A MINISKIRT AGAIN because my legs look like bamboo poles. And then a week before our school field trip, my mom in her fit of rage cut my hair very short. I was a physical and emotional wreck. I was seriously thinking about suicide. That was how miserable my life was.

Me wearing my uncle's jacket at World Trade Center during the National Science and Technology Week where our team was one of the exhibitors.

The Swan Lake

But things started to change back in my junior year. I moved out of my Mom's house and back to my grandparent's which was a relief when my grandpa wasn't there. I was able to find new friends who accepted me and gave me a place I belong to. My sister came home from the US for a short vacation and she sort of made me over (plucked my eyebrows, taught me how to put make up, etc) and bought me new clothes. It was still hard at some times. When my Grandpa comes home here, he messes my life. From 100 bucks a day, he changed my allowance to 80. He didn't want me to have a lot of shoes and clothes. I told him once, "Grandpa, mas madami pa nga pong sapatos yung mga katulong natin kesa sa akin eh." (Grandpa, our maids even have more shoes than me). But to no avail. It was the price I have to pay for being his granddaughter.

During college, I decided to study at one school where I know no one of my previous classmates will go to. It was a fresh start for me. I began working parttime and things started to get better. There was even a point where I had two jobs at the same time, working as a secretary for MRT and a cashier at my uncle's restaurant. I met a very wonderful guy who kinda reminded me of my Dad. I became used to stooping and keeping my head bowed down and he always reminded me to walk straight with my chin up because he was proud of me and I should be proud of myself, too. I think, that was when I began to realize my selfworth and slowly I regained my self-confidence. I had enough money to go to a dermatologist for my face. I bought a lot of clothes and a lot more shoes. My boyfriend back then pampered me like a baby, treated me like a princess and brought me to different wonderful places. I became more comfortable with my skin, I learned different tricks, I came across Girltalk for beauty tips and so on. There are still times when I feel ugly and fat but most of the time I know I'm beautiful and I guess that's all that matters. And that I can make heads turn, occasionally. Haha.

Looking back, I guess I didn't look too fugly but I felt ugly and bad about myself that it ate through the good things until all I could think about was how ugly and how stupid and miserable I am. I guess, that's the first part of any makeover. It should start from within.

Now, I just had my hair rebonded, I regularly go to the gym, my dermatologist and malls (to shop or window shop), I try to be positive, I go out with friends, I take a lot of pictures, I eat what I want and go places and I have a blog to celebrate my beauty, este, the beauty of life pala. Hehehe. I know there's still a lot of work to do. I still have a lot to improve about myself. There are times when I hear my brothers or cousins say that I'm too fat but I just laugh it off because I know that there will always be people who will criticize you for your waistline or the way you dress or how dark your skin complexion is. But at the end of the day, there will also be that one person who I know appreciates my not-so-big boobs, my "sun-kissed" color and that little black dress I wear - I've finally learned to love myself again.

And just for old time's sake, I checked my old classmates' pictures in Friendster (those who used to make fun of me) and boy I'm so glad to know that I look a hell lot better than them. And oh, I never took your advice Miss M. I think I look fab in mini skirts. Eat your heart out! Beh!

The bamboo poles now

Finally, the swan!

Chances and What Ifs

First of all, let me warn you that this is going to be a very mushy post.

I am never a fan of Filipino movies just because I think that most Pinoy movies rely on the star factor rather than the quality of the story and the script itself. But I have to say now that I guess I was… wrong.

I guess I was just being a little crazy. Otherwise, who would have come home at 5 am from a night out, drunk and totally wasted and still have a couple of hours more to spare? Adding the fact that the same person just had her eyelash extension a few days back and is not allowed to cry?

So, let me rephrase that – I am crazy.

I watched One More Chance. Yes, that’s the Bea – John Lloyd movie. I am not a fan of Bea and most especially not that of John Lloyd. But I still watched it just for the sake of killing time.

Never did I think it would have such effect on me.

Feb 8, 2001

He was wearing a gray buttoned up shirt with a dragon print on the front. He was with a friend, standing at the front of Kawilihan Bakery in Anonas. He let out a smile and immediately walked up to me, held my hand and kissed me on the cheeks. He had the look of a schoolboy going gaga over his crush. But he wasn’t a schoolboy anymore. He was 23 years old. And I was not just a crush. I was his girlfriend who turned 16 that day.

I was at my happiest with him. Those were the days I thought and hoped would never end. We practically spent everyday together and looked forward to more. He was my first boyfriend, my best friend, my companion and jack of all trades.

But at one point, I became overwhelmed with too much love. I needed space - lots of it. I needed time – away from him. I started taking our relationship for granted and became consumed with the thoughts of “what if”.

What if he wasn’t always at my side, will I become more independent?

What if he wasn’t there to guide me, will I find my way on my own?

What if he wasn’t there to tell me what to do, will I be able to make my own choices?

What if there was no us, would there be more of me?

The thoughts haunted me, until one day I grew tired of thinking about “what ifs” and decided to know “what is” (I borrowed that line from Basha).

And so - I broke up with him.

Aug 23, 2008

Now, here I am after 7 years. I am no longer the 16-year old girl and he is no longer the 23-year old guy who used to be the only man in my life. I am no longer innocent, I have experienced more than people can think I have - some are good and well, some are bad.

For 7 years, I’ve met a lot of people and there were a few wonderful persons that I’ve shared with some of the most memorable moments in my life. But the remaining pieces were all void. Most of the time, I was still lonely and I kept looking for the same kind of love we shared. The love that we had was the crazy, can’t-live-without-you-for-a-day kind of love, that sometimes it becomes unbearable.

For 7 years, I’ve been trying to find myself – what I want, where I want to go, who I want to be. It was never easier without him.

Has. Never. Been. Easier.

I know I have become stronger and wiser and more confident with life. I believe that I can stumble and fall on my knees and find the strength to stand up again. But somehow, whenever I look back – I see the 16-year old girl smiling back at me. And when I try to smile back, my heart breaks because I know that her smile is sweeter, more real and sincere.

I know that in a lot of ways, she is a lot happier than I am right now.

The past 7 years are the what-ifs that I decided to succumb to. And now I realized that I wanted to go back but I can never find my way home. The roads have changed to dead-ends and U-turns are no longer allowed.

Now, all I can do is wonder about – what if I never let him go?

Just like what he wrote a few days back… I wish we can go back to the way it was before, when the days never seemed to end. Then we wouldn’t have any regrets. Then, we wouldn’t have to carry this pain all our lives...

It’s too late now to try and fix what we had. We are both living separate lives and I could honestly wish him being happy with someone else. I have moved on. I have finally dealt with the pain of losing him and I’m now working on bringing back the courage to love again. God knows, with all the pain I’ve been through – 5 years of cursing and crying and going gaga over him I have become scared to love again and share my whole heart with someone new.

I don’t want to go through the same pain…

But I still want to know –

What if I fall in love again?

Can't Cry Hard Enough

I'm gonna live my life
Like every day's the last
Without a simple goodbye
It all goes by so fast

And now that you've gone
I can't cry hard enough
No, I can't cry hard enough
For you to hear me now

Gonna open my eyes
And see for the first time
I let go of you like
A child letting go of his kite...

Lately, I’ve been dreaming a lot about my dad - three straight days. His image is as clear and vivid as when he was still alive.

My relationship with my Dad was the one that most daughters would envy. When I had my first crush, when I cut my classes for the first time, when I didn’t get a perfect score in an exam when I was in kindergarten – I went straight to him. Not to my Mom because I know she would nag about it endlessly but always to my Dad because I know he would understand. He would even tell me about his own personal experiences. At the end of each of our conversations, I would always feel better.

All those times I was hurt (I always scrape my knee as a child), all those times my mom spanked me and all other times when I felt I needed my Dad – I just cry and wail like a banshee and he would be there. He would always make the pain stop.

Now, I can cry all I want and scream as loud as I can but I know it would never be the same.

I miss my Dad terribly.

It’s been 12 years since he died but there are times when I feel like I’m still the 10 year old girl whose been told that her Dad is dead.

The pain never stopped.

The longing never ceased.

But, love goes on.

And so does life.

Runaway

In life, make sure you are running towards something, not away from something.

I spent the rainy Wednesday morning curled up in bed, texting and reading Nights in Rodanthe by NIcholas Sparks. I came across that line, and just had to stop. I put down the book and just breathed a heavy sigh.

I am always running away from people, situations and even memories. For me, the best way to handle difficult times is not to handle them at all. Run away, pretend they don't exist, change numbers, do not talk to them, fool myself and go on with life tucking away all that's bothering me in a trunk already flowing with those that I have hidden before.

CONFESSIONS

This year was a year of hide and seek for me, I was always on the go (as usual), moving from place to place, running away from people. I quit my job at Sykes (a great company) because I wanted to run away from someone and thought that this would be the best thing for us. When tragedy happened, I walked out from it and told myself, it never did. I had a row with my sister, and for several months now, I have been trying to pretend that my sister doesn't exist (how stupid!). I met someone, worked at a new company - Siemens, I got depressed but I didn't want to cry or worry. I just wanted to move on and get on with life. I quit my job and just ignored whatever was happening with my life. Now, I am at NuComm, a new company with new people around me. I am not here because I wanted to be here, I just didn't want to be in the same place. (Aside from having fun,) I went out on dates, went partying and met new people not to look for someone but to forget someone. Now, I know why it never worked out.

I never wanted to stay. I just wanted to run away.

I guess, that is the reason why time passes me by without really knowing where to go to. But my life has not been stagnant, it has been in constant and rapid motion. I have lots of things going on around me and I can definitely say that I am not in the same place I was before. I have changed but I was driven by the wrong reasons, I have been fighting for the wrong side all this time.

Carefree - that's what they call me. My mantra is, "throw away your worries and keep your fingers crossed that they will disappear in time." Sometimes, it works but I realized I have to grow up and take charge of my life. Stop hoping that God will have mercy on me, or my family will rescue me in the ravine of my own land, or that one day it will go forgotten. I know being worry-less is a fun way to live. But flowers never bloom with the sun alone. We all need a little rain sometimes... and this time, I am not throwing anything but my umbrella and I will let myself be drenched in the rain.

Bilanggo

para kay kuya manuel na nagbigay inspirasyon sa talatang ito.

Paalis ako papauntang Baguio dala-dala ang maletang hiniram ko kay Allan na ang laman ay puro miniskirt at shorts (dahil naniniwala ako sa kasabihang pack light na ako din naman ang nagimbento). Nadaanan ko si Kuya Manuel umiinom dun sa kanto.

"Makikipagdate ka na naman," ang sabi niya.

"Hindi noh. Papasok ako sa opisina," palusot ko. Kahit na alam na ng buong baranggay sa min na tuluyan na kong nagretiro sa pagiging "kolgirl".

Bakit nga ba ako tinamad sa pagtratrabaho? Yun ang tinatanong ko sa aking sarili habang inaakyat namin ang ecotrail sa Camp John Hay. Rasyonal ba ang dahilan ko? Dahil lang sa batugan ako at ayaw ko ng magtrabaho? O marahil ayokong makulong sa isang mundong puno ng bawal kung saan bawat galaw at pindot mo sa telepono ay narerekord, bawat cr at lunch break ay inoorasan at bawat salita ay dapat naayon sa "call flow". Siguro nga.

Sabi nga nila masyado kong mahal ang aking kalayaan. At bakit hindi, ipinaglaban pa yan nila Rizal at Bonifacio at maging ng mga ninuno nating nawalan na ng mukha at pangalan. Hindi ba't nararapat lang na ipagpatuloy ang laban? Makibaka para sa kalayaan! (Patalsikin si Gloria!!!)

Subalit ngayon, pagkalipas ng labingsiyam na araw kong pagiging istambay, limang araw ng bakasyon sa Baguio, anim na oras pagkagaling sa Laguna at Tagaytay, apatnaputpitong minuto matapos kong malaman na patay na si Kuya Manuel ay napagmunimuni ko na ako'y nagkamali rin. Ang kalayaan hindi natatamo sa pagtalikod sa digmaan. Hindi rin nakukuha o naibabalik. Hindi dahil istambay ka ay malaya ka na. Hindi naman dun natatapos ang mga bawal sa mundo. Walang taong ipinanganak na malaya. Hindi pa nga tayo naisisilang bilanggo na tayo ng pangarap ng ating mga magulang. "Tong anak kong to, magiging boksingero to pag laki kagaya ni Manny at ibibili ako ng mansyon at magagarang auto." Bilanggo na tayo ng ating pangalan at apelyido, kasarian, bansa, relihiyon, kultura at kung anu-ano pang tanikala. Bilanggo na tayo bago pa man naging tao at marahil ang mundong ito ang ating Bilibid.

Kaya para sa iyo Kuya Manuel na madalas kong makita sa kanto, umiinom o minsan naman ay nagpapaypay ng barbeque - maswerte ka. Laya ka na.