love-hate relationship with our moms

while i was taking a break from my thesis, i came across this interesting take on our relationship with our mother. ever since i was born, my mother has always been there by my side. i guess i'm really lucky that my mom has dedicated herself to me and my brother -- making sure that we get whatever we need and want in life. however, there were also many instances in the past where i hated her for not understanding me. but amidst this imperfect relationship i have with her, she would always be one of the people i'd wish to be by my side forever.

at 3 yrs old: "Ma, I love you"
at 10 yrs old: "Mom whatever!"
at 16 yrs old: "OMG! My Mom is so annoying!"
at 18 yrs old: "I wanna leave this house."
at 25 yrs old: "Mom, you were right."
.........at 30 yrs old: "I want to go back to my Mom's house."
at 50 yrs old: "I don't wanna lose my Mom."
at 70 yrs old: "I would give up anything for my Mom to be here."

i am alone

when loneliness suddenly creeped in, i couldn't help but remember william wordsworth's "the solitary reaper."

Behold her, single in the field,
Yon solitary Highland Lass!
Reaping and singing by herself;
Stop here, or gently pass!
Alone she cuts and binds the grain,
And sings a melancholy strain;
O listen! for the Vale profound
Is overflowing with the sound.
No Nightingale did ever chaunt
More welcome notes to weary bands
Of travellers in some shady haunt,
Among Arabian sands:
A voice so thrilling ne’er was heard
In spring-time from the Cuckoo-bird,
Breaking the silence of the seas
Among the farthest Hebrides.
Will no one tell me what she sings?--
Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow
For old, unhappy, far-off things,
And battles long ago:
Or is it some more humble lay,
Familiar matter of to-day?
Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain,
That has been, and may be again?
Whate’er the theme, the Maiden sang
As if her song could have no ending;
I saw her singing at her work,
And o’er the sickle bending;--
I listened, motionless and still;
And, as I mounted up the hill
The music in my heart I bore,
Long after it was heard no more.

i guess i am afaird to be alone after all.

thanksgiving 2010

happy thanksgiving! :)

Christmas is fast approaching

Christmas is just around the corner...



-Christmas Party

(Pinoy Crew, November 2010)

when the dolls go blue

After going through it all over again, we came to realize that it takes two to fall in love, and the saddest part is that it takes only one to fall out of it. For the one who falls out of love first, it is painless, split-second experience. The other one, who is still madly in love, bears the suffering, loss of self-esteem, sense of abandonment, rejection, loneliness, sleepless nights, and despair. One's emotions swing from anger to rage to self-pity and even to piety overnight.




And as a consolation, we'll be listening to more sappy songs tonight while trying to finish a bottle of vodka in the fridge.

just for laughs

happy halloween!

(up)rooting

i have had several departures and returns in the past few years; each one reminding me of how transient my life. such living arrangement has always been a part of me, and i thought i've already accepted it.

my parents brought me up in an environment where my world is not fixed in one location. they shipped me back and forth in the cusp of two cities; and when they realized it's not enough, they decided to add another on my list of 'hometowns'. they also supported the idea of greater mobility on my part when i decided to pursue a career in the academe, where i'll be forced to wander in different places until the end of my chosen path.

such set-up had been greeted with a welcoming thought until my recent visit to manila. i think seeing my family and friends, and hearing their stories made me rethink of whatever feeling i've had about this transient life. listening to their stories reminded me of how i'm missing out on a lot of things. i have been stripped off the privilege to be with my family, to form a long, deep, and meaningful relationship with my friends, and even to settle down with someone.

moreover, my fragmented self was suddenly highlighted and its ironies further amplified in my trip. i can no longer shift from one part of myself to another in an instant. in fact,  the high-glamour and comfortable lifestyle in manila (and even in the states) are still in me as i am writing this entry in singapore.

obviously, i am once again ranting about the life i've chosen (or was imposed on me). okay, enough... back to my review.

part une

i had a surprise welcome-back treat from j, a, and a.

i was checked-in at a five-star hotel, with a classy western themed dinner and an awesome continental breakfast buffet. then, they also brought me as a vip guest to the hottest clubbing scene in the city, and ended the day with a drinking spree at one of those gay clubs in malate.

the following day, i was welcomed by my parents to our new house and had a fun dinner with my other relatives.

now, i'm sick and trying to hide away from most of my friends.

i do think i'm back in manila.

Helen Fishner on Romantic Love

(dis)comfort

on my way to school, i always end up seeing children commuting on their own. i am guessing these kids are between eight to ten years old, and are pretty much used to taking the public transport system. they board the bus on their own and even run towards the bus stop just  to make sure they'll be able to catch their bus. anyway, seeing these kids never fail to bring an ironic smile on my face because they remind me of some of the things i greatly missed out when i was their age.

for one i was not allowed to go out on my own, and it's only when i reached the 7th grade when i first experienced taking a cab alone--something my parents didn't even know about. then, i was not allowed by my parents to play outside our house when i was kid. that's why i ended up playing with my nanny and the other maids at home. furthermore, my parents didn't let me try to do things on my own, because they brought me up in an environment where i was surrounded by people who will do things for me.

but who am i to complain? i know some people would say that i am fortunate to have parents who gave and continue to give me things that are beyond my basic needs. however, my sheltered lifestyle also robbed me of so many simple things that would've made me happier as a kid, and at the same time a better person now.

i am not saying that i don't appreciate the way my parents brought me up, because i'm actually thankful that they didn't neglect me when i was a kid. all am saying, i guess, is that it would have been better if my parents allowed me to experience everything when i was child--even by removing me from comfort zone and letting me appreciate the simple things in life--because this so-called transition to being independent would have been easier if only my parents did such deeds.

home

secretly, i wish i can just stay in one place and call it home.

forgettable

i just received a message from someone in the past. it's actually strange that i got his message the night before the 2nd of september.

eight years ago, september 2 was the 'IT' date for me (and probably for you as well). you and i went to my place on the 77th street, and we stayed in my room while watching casper, romy and michelle's high school reunion, and titanic the entire night. as an excuse, you told your parents that you have to sleep-over at my place because we have to finish a paper due the next day. however, the truth is, we just wanted to be together on that day.

this year, however, september 2 becomes the day where i just have to reply to your message and confirm my attendance for the homecoming. there's no hint or recollection on your side at all; it's just a plain work-related letter from you.

ah, the beauty of civility.

repost: misstep

one of the posts i was able to save from my previous blog...

i've dug myself a hole and hidden myself from most of my friends. that is why, for the past few months, i've only shown myself to a handful of people. and because of my sudden disappearance, those who had the chance to see me asked for an answer to my sudden elusiveness towards people: "why don't you want to see some of your friends? have you become an anti-social? are you mad at them? what's wrong with you?" well, the only answer i gave them was: "i think i'm having some kind of a withdrawal syndrome."

i think most of the people who heard my answer didn't understand what i meant by "withdrawal syndrome." my close friend in nyc thought i was referring to homesickness, while a friend in manila thought it's just one of my so-called 'postmodern attitudes'. most of them interpreted the term as a  usual vicissitude that you get from transferring from one place to another, and it's actually quite sad that none understood me at all. none of them realized that singapore has made me see change the way i see my life; that i've finally gone beyond mundanity.

i've been living a life in constant transit since i was a kid, but never have i had this need to burrow myself away from (most of) my friends. when i went back to manila from irvine, never did it occur to me to keep myself away from my childhood friends. then, when i went to nyc for 9th grade, i was actually eager to see my friends in irvine again. that's why i flew there twice that year just to see my friends again. but now, i just do not sense that need to see my friends here again. in fact, i want to be away from most of them. i want to be clear, however, that it's not because i don't want to be friends with them anymore, nor do i want to live an isolated life. rather, i'm just tired of performing that shallow identity that i need to act out whenever i'm with (most of) my friends.

in uni, i got acquainted with judith butler. i learned that gender is something that we perform... even our very own sexuality. so being male is not really congenital, but rather it's reified and solidified by constantly performing what it is to be male. this notion of performance that creates our sexuality, i believe, can also be applied to our other identities. however, the scariest part is that these performances are regulated by several social institutions such as schools, goverment policies, and even our social circles. we always have to perform based on what is expected from that identity, or else we'd end up subverting it -- worse, considered as abnormal for betraying the routines that we're expected to follow.

going back to manila and nyc (even for just a while) meant performing the very identities i have in those places. i needed to go back to my old self because i already have a well-established name there. my name entails a specific script, routines, blocking, and even rhythm that i always need to follow in order to still be me. this means that i need to experience the lifestyle that suits the plot of my already-expected performance; and if i decide not to use those routines, then people would think i've gone mad or something. worse, i'll be reprimanded and ridiculed by the very social institutions that are supposed to ensure i won't end up subverting the so-called 'accepted' identity i have.

however, i don't want to see myself doing those steps and lines anymore. my singapore experience has allowed me to realize how empty those performances in my so-called familar places are. the need to perform based on your social status, class, and even race has been challenged and even repudiated by the beauty of performing a life in anonymity. and i guess that's the reason why i've been in hiding since i decided to settle down in singapore. as what my friend told me: "you're trying to boycot the need to perform by not seeing most of your friends;" and i think she's right. i am probably doing my own silent protest against the need to perform based on what is expected from you.

am i going crazy? is my protest justified at all? i really don't know, however, i'm sensing that postructuralism is slowly creeping in once again. yes, this, i think, is my cheap attempt at deconstruction.

i usually hate poetry except for some cases like this...

of love and other demons

i worry that i am stretching myself too thinly, and yet it's my own desires that put me in such a difficult situation. funny as it may sound, but the very dreams i have for myself have become the bane of my existence. i am now forced to do my phd applications as i finish my thesis at the same time. moreover, i am compelled to leave my new found friends as what i did to my long-time comrads when i embarked on this quest for higher learning. then, i am required to make a vow of poverty as i start to adjust to the low-paying profession of teaching.

i wonder if it's the same for other people. are our dreams the same as our nightmares?

prayers for bobby (griffith)

"Before you echo Amen in your home or

place of worship, think and remember.

A child is listening." (Mary Griffith)

time is just a relative concept

Forever's Not So Long from garrettmurray on Vimeo.

of the so-called we-ness

"We still don't even have a name we can call ourselves. We are many people. We always have been. There is no such thing as a homosexual anymore, if there were ever was. There is no inclusive word to embrace us all. Gay is what we're using now, though i know few who are really happy with this word. Queer is truly hateful to many, including me. It is a revolting word and a million miles from connoting pride from its bearers. It took people of color in America many centuries to coalesce as African-Americans. Perhaps we need more time to locate and agree on our name." (Larry Krammer)

probably the goal is actually not to goal

after a month of break up stories

breakups. they say it's probably one of the hardest things a person has to face in life. in that very instance, two parties come to a parting of the ways, and there's usually no turning back. some lucky couples reach this point of separation with mutual understanding, while in other cases, couples are somehow forced to go on with different lives. but no matter how people would decide to call it quits, all the promises made to each other, and all the hopes and wishes woven together as a couple, will all just be thrown in the abyss of broken dreams. as what those people, who have gone through the hardships of breaking up with their partners, would say, it's like a part of me has died. so if quitting from a relationship is painful and difficult, then why do some people choose this decision anyway? don't we all want a happily-ever-after?

and on a similar note, when do we know that it's over?

as what the title of this blog says

"But what i see is the millions of people, of whom i am just one, made orphans: no motherland, no fatherland, no gods, no mounds of earth for holy ground, no excess of love which might lead to the things that excess love sometimes brings, and worst and most painful of all, no tongue. For isn't it odd that the only language I have in which to speak of this crime is the language of the criminal who committed the crime? And what can this really mean? For the language of the criminal contain only the goodness of the criminal's deed." (Kincaid 1988, 32)

"As what we were like before we met you, I no longer care. No periods of time over which my ancestors held sway, no documentation of complex civilizations, is any comfort to me. Even if I really came from people who were living in trees, it was better to be that than what happened to me, what I became after I met you." (Kincaid 1988, 37)