In Its Truest Form: Part II
May 30, 2009Rading, Coring, and my mother’s family were neighbors. My mother and her family were witnesses to the young love of the two sweethearts, Rading and Coring.
And like Romeo and Juliet, their love was not blessed by their family, at least not by Rading’s family. Rading belonged to a middle-class family and afforded education, whereas Coring had been working as a dressmaker. And the cruelest thing that can happen between young lovers, they were separated.
Eventually, Rading got married and resided in the United States. Coring almost became a spinster, but also wed with a younger man, due to the insistence of her family, afraid that she was already past marrying age. She also stayed a while in Canada but decided to live here in the country.
They both had children and were without communication for decades. Last year, Tito Rading, already 68 years old, went back here in the Philippines and visited my grandmother. He told my grandmother she wanted to see Tita Coring, who was about the same age as Tito Rading. My grandmother and mother invited Tita Coring for dinner in our house. She was hesitant at first but also came, for old times’ sake I guess.
We all sat around our elliptical dining table. I was aware of the past love story of the two and was a bit observant of the two’s behavior. Tita Coring was still as prim and proper as I surmise she has always been. She was accompanied by her young helper, which I translated was her “chaperone.” I kind of laughed at the idea; it seemed so juvenile. haha. They did not seat beside each other, but I can sense the high spirits of Tito Rading. He had so many stories and opinions on matters, exchanging thoughts with my grandmother while Tita Coring most of the time only listened.
By this time, Tita Coring was already a widow but Tito Rading was still married to her wife abroad. My mother and grandmother teased Tito Rading a bit, and he would glee at the idea, but they rarely joked about their love story with Tita Coring. She seemed so Maria Clara.
From what I gathered, Tita Coring lived a comfortable life but not a happy married life. Her husband was rather arrogant and irresponsible. But Tita Coring was never one to complain. Tito Rading, on the other hand, always complained about his wife. He would often tell stories to my grandmother of how he and his wife do not get along well. She had an “attitude,” as he said. I wondered how they remained married for so long if they did not get along well.
The dinner was the first time I saw Tito Rading. He has been living in the States even before I was born. But since that dinner, I saw him several times, because several times he visited the country.
Last month, Tito Rading called up my mom to inform her of a shocking news, at least to me. He said that he and his wife got their marriage divorced. I didn’t know he and his wife filed for divorce. It’s a long process, isn’t it? I meant the contemplation of having one and the actual process of divorce. Their divorce papers must have been already filed before he came back, when we all sat for dinner.
Another shocking news followed, but this time a pleasant one. He and Tita Coring are going to get married. At 70 years old, they are tying the knot! They say first love never dies, and it never did for this two. They are no longer pressured to build a family or to have children. In fact, they can just live together, and not get married. No one will judge them. They must have felt that no less than the sanctity of marriage can bear witness to their pure love. They must have dreamt about this as a young couple and are now fulfilling their dreams. What more sincere way to say, “til death do us part,” than that said by two old people in love.
Tito Rading is again here in the Philippines, to see his fiancée. He talked to Tita Coring’s children and told them of their marriage plan. Instead from their parents, they got blessings from their children. This year, they’re going to get married in Hong Kong and live in the United States—happily ever after, no doubt.
Intimacy and Sanctuary
May 26, 2009As most Filipinos, my family belongs to generations of Catholics. I, myself, is a Catholic. For a time, though, years actually, I’ve been “Catholic, nonpracticing.”
Lola always brings me, sometimes with my cousins, to our old cathedral when I was younger (until grade 2). I often try hard to be attentive to the mass. I felt kind of “holy” when I’m inside the church. I felt enlightened, oftentimes condemning the noisiness and inattentiveness of my two male cousins. Yes, I felt righteous.
As I grow older, going to mass required so much effort. I never woke up early just to go to church. In the afternoon, my favorite shows were on TV. Months passed that I don’t go to mass, and this without guilt.
I’ve become critical of what priests say during mass. I sometimes felt that, surely, they must have gotten what the Bible said incorrectly. I’ve become watchful of their inconsistencies or their lack of logic. I’ve lost trust in them as I heard the “misbehaviors” of the priests. During those times, sexual harassment cases against them have been the fashion. Besides, I have two friends with fathers as priests. I do not think that it is wrong for priests to have a wife and a child. But I definitely think it wrong to fool people that they uphold their vow of chastity and definitely wrong to deny their children. That’s plain mean.
I found the people going to mass hypocritical. The teenagers stand near the exits or entrances of the church when there are so many seats in the middle. It’s either they were “displaying” or “looking.” I know, because my schoolmates are some of these insincere teenagers. Some of the adults seemed to forget to listen to the mass, with their necks rotating 180 degrees to talk to a kumadre and a kumpadre seating at the row behind. Don’t let me start with the conversations I hear inside the church.
Despite all these, I never lost faith in God. I perceived myself as spiritual rather than religious, as I hear American celebrities often say. I’ve been disillusioned in organized religion, seeing it as detrimental to my spiritual health. I go to church when there’s no mass, as I felt more intimate with Him when there are no priests and parishioners. Heck, I even went to church everyday after high school class, praying for my father’s life. The truth is, I felt that there was something wrong about the institution, but not the religion.
Late last year, I started going to mass again, in the afternoon. I was actually inspired by the masses I regularly attend in a small Methodist church for the year or so. The pastors are very warm, shaking the hands of all the people and taking time to ask them about their lives, and always have a ready smile for everyone. The parishioners are always attentive to the masses and are active with all church activities. The children and the adolescents participate in masses, oftentimes leading the choir. And they do not mind me going to their masses, although I do not share the same religious affiliation.
I decided to revisit my Catholic ties. There’s this small chapel near my work that I started going to every Sunday. The church has limited electric fan, so it’s pretty hot inside. They do not have enough instruments for the choir, so there are times when the church songs are a cappella. They have defective loud speakers, so listening to lectors requires effort. They actually had fund-raising for the speakers: a 1-peso ticket for a laptop. They sold tickets for a year, I guess. Too bad, I did not win (I could have replaced my virus-ridden laptop caused by my virus-ridden flash memory), but with the support of the people, the church has upgraded to more audible speakers.
The parishioners are mostly from the lower class, belonging to the community near the church. The people usually walk to the church, wearing simple but appropriate clothes. They listen intently to the priests and sing with the choir. After mass, the children run toward the priest, and he touches the forehead of every kid. Eduard, when I took him with me when he was here in Manila, was really happy when the priest recognized his presence when I urged him to go to the priest. He was beaming.
There’s this one person that really inspires me. This man cannot walk and goes to church in his makeshift wheelchair with ceiling. He’s always beside the front-row seat, with a sincere curiosity and sincerity in his face. After mass, the priest approaches him or he approaches the priest to perhaps say something or to take the priest’s hand in the act of pagmamano. Afterward, he’d go out and sets up a mini sari-sari store outside the church, also in his makeshift wheelchair. The vendors in our big cathedral are always just in front of the cathedral’s gate, blocking the entrance. This man, along with some vendors, are at a safe distance from the church, seemingly following whatever protocols the church required of them. When I saw this man, I felt a pang of guilt, knowing how this man religiously comes to church every Sunday with 10 times the effort I have, and with his unexpecting and unaccusing eyes. Now, I try to go to church every Sunday, this time in the morning, waking up despite of my late-night TV-viewing habits, be it in this small Catholic chapel or in the small Methodist church.
There’s something about small chapels that make me feel at home. The intimacy between the church and the people are heartwarming. Though not as comfortable as the new and not as majestic as the old cathedrals, the little chapel has become a true sanctuary to that humble man, to the people in the community, and dare I say, even to me.
In Its Truest Form: Part I
May 24, 2009My 30-something cousin married a Japanese woman this May. It was a simple wedding here in the Philippines, but it sure is something worthy talking about. It isn’t like a high-society Shirley of Hollywood met a ragged Tom downtown and lived happily ever after. My cousin’s love story was far more unconventional.
My cousin (J) left for Japan when I was still in high school. From my understanding, he left partly to help pay the tuition of his two younger brothers and partly to escape the furious eyes of his father. J’s father was the machismo type and resented having a gay son, his eldest son (yes, J was gay). J would avoid face-to-face meeting with him, knowing his father’s disdain with him. For years, I only heard bits of news about him. Apparently, his father slowly accepted his son’s sexual orientation, grateful of the money he’d been sending them. His father even displayed pictures of J with a long hair and makeup in their house, looking more like a female Japanese than a male Filipino.
Even when J’s mother died, he did not come back to the Philippines. He was overstaying in Japan and could not afford to go home just yet, lest the education of his brothers be hampered. It was really a hard decision, but one has to make sacrifices for the family.
Late last year, he went home. He brought a news with him that came as a shock to me and perhaps to most of the family. J was going to be married here in the Philippines—to a Haponesa.
I couldn’t imagine the difficulty of being on constant alert that the authorities would deport you anytime, especially if you were the breadwinner. Amidst all the hardships, he found some good Filipino and Japanese friends. He also met K, who changed his life. Then after, he was sending a picture of him with a short hair and without makeup.
I do not know the details of how he met K. But because of her, he changed his form from a female J back to a male J. Of course, there were still traces of his old self, especially how he walks and talks. K told him to surrender to the embassy and that she would marry him so he can come back to Japan. The risk of involuntary deportation was becoming more and more high, and it meant becoming blacklisted for a longer time. There was one crucial factor though—he was supporting his family back home. K told J not to worry. She would send him allowance until he can come back to Japan.
True enough. She’s been sending him regular allowance, and in about 6 months that he was here, K came here 6 times to see him, often spending only a few days since she was busy as an executive. She’d bring something for every member of J’s family. Though she hardly speaks English, she was well-loved by everyone. She helps in household chores, despite J’s family’s disagreement, and very respectful of the elders. She must have been a Filipino, if not for her Japanese eyes.
I saw her for the first time in the wedding. She was slim and beautiful, with little makeup and her long hair pinned to her head. She was a bit older than cousin J, but she looked younger. It was fascinating how she knew him when he was still wearing makeup on his face. That he was gay was something she knew, and yet, she loved him. That he was gay but returned to being a man for her was truly remarkable. It seemed to me a love beyond social status and nationality—even gender.
Breaking Routine
May 23, 2009Aside from going back to school, I have another good news to share.
I’ve been contemplating for almost a year, realizing how my life has been stagnant for the past 5 years. I do not want changes in my life, especially when it was in its peak—usually. Dropping from Ateneo Law almost 6 years ago was painful, especially as the circumstances have dictated it, and not laziness and incompetence. What else to do but to find a job?
And I landed myself a copy editing job. I really enjoyed the 6 months of training. It took out much regret on having to leave law school. It was interesting to “master” the rules of grammar, to know proper use of punctuations, and to spot common errors. I also learned to be attentive to details as extra spaces translate to errors. I am very thankful for that training and for the experience as these taught me a skill that comes in handy, even how to avoid grammar errors in this blog. But years of copy editing hundreds of articles became a routine, and in the past year, it oftentimes bores me to death.
And for the past year, I’ve had several interviews from different companies. I almost got one, being approved by the US clients and the US boss, but was somehow hindered by the US recession. There was one multinational company with a base in Switzerland that called me for a senior web writer position. They liked the articles I sent them, but noticed the lack of leadership experiences. What was I to do? Copy editors don’t get promoted. There wasn’t even a senior position. Finally, a company located in Eastwood decided to hire me as a web content copywriter. Weighing so many things, I finally decided to decline the offer.
Being a copy editor isn’t such a bad job. Indeed, many colleagues love what they do. I am very glad for them. But I am not one of them. Everything slowly became mechanical for me. I became mechanical, always racing with time to accomplish my target number of pages for the day.
This week, I was no longer a copy editor—at least not for a month. Monday was the start of being a quality improvement specialist, well, at least the start of training for it. I haven’t had training or new responsibilities for the past 5 years, not even sales training or personality development. I have reservations on whether I am fit for the job. I have no experience on conducting training needs analysis or in creating trending reports. A “jolt” from someone and the support of my close copy editor friends and former manager drove me to try this position. After all, there’s the on-the-job training to help me learn the tasks. So far, so good. 
Finally…
May 22, 2009…I made it back to school. Yesterday, I went to the university belt in Mendiola to enroll for the first semester. I’ve always hated the place because of the traffic, the obvious pollution, the crowded street, and the number of snatchers and thieves lurking around, but yesterday was different. I was anxious to be there, to that very busy street.
It took me half an hour to finish the enrollment, walking up and down the stairs and back and forth the buildings. Though it was tiring, the thought that I’d be schooling again boosts my enthusiasm. At about 3 pm, I was officially a student! Student. It sounds young. It sounds like a step forward.
Indeed, I was happy to be finally in school again. But a sudden fear hit me while on my way home. I’ve dreamed of this too much, and I was afraid for a not-so-impossible disappointment—to see that I am not fit for this, that I cannot make it through. I don’t want to be a mere statistic in the school’s computer memory.
I guess I really am back to school.
YouTube Generation
Whoever thought of YouTube created a generation. Everything is now on YouTube. From advertisements of where to buy HGH supplements, to infomercials on global warming, to music videos, to interviews of politicians, to bloopers of superstars. Charice Pempengco, who’s been guesting at Oprah and Ellen, and Arnel Pineda, who is now the lead vocalist of the international band Journey, were both “discovered” in YouTube. It has become a level playing field for those aspiring to be stars. YouTube can make one a big star.
But YouTube can also break a person—big time. Who among Filipinos do not know about Hayden Kho and Katrina Halili’s scandalous videos? I pity the women involved in the sex scandal. YouTube has “aired” the sex scandals, reaching millions of viewers, and the politicians, especially those identified of having political ambitions in the coming election, have blew it out of proportion. It felt like they were exploiting the case, if not the women. They must have forgotten about the noodle scandal, the ZTE scandal, the H1N1 virus, and the ongoing move for cha-cha (charter change). It’s time again to be popular. Who knows? I might see them in the coming months in YouTube—hopefully and expectingly to see their blunders.
Seven Favorite Things
May 17, 2009
What do you know, onyxx gave me reason to post by giving me this Kreativ Blogger Award. I wasn’t expecting it really. It was such a surprise I almost fainted when I learned about it.
With the trophy (the image above) comes a task: to write seven favorite things I like and to pass it on to seven others. I wondered if I should say love, care, peace, but those were expected (and mushy). I thought of making a list of what I like to have, but those would be my desires. So I guess I’d stick to the seven day-to-day things that I like doing most. After all, these little everyday things are what we do most our lives. Can you guess what these seven activities are?
I like…
…watching. I enjoy TV series such as House and 24 and animation such as Star Wars: Clone Wars and Naruto, though I cannot watch them an episode at a time. I just can’t handle the suspense hehe. This and the coming months, there are many good films I’ve watched (last were Star Trek and Wolverine) and will sure to watch. A treat indeed.
…reading. There’s just something about being sucked in a world so unlike yet so similar as mine. I get to be warriors and knights, and wizards and dragons, even with my Lestat (Ann Rice’s hero/antihero). Where did you think I got my name here?
…listening to music. And watching concerts. Music is like poetry to me, only I can understand the lyrics hehe. Seriously, it really has the power to make me very happy or sad. The words become mine, and the music becomes my emotion.
…knowing the news. My day starts and ends with news (sometimes reading). I want to keep myself informed, especially of the state of our government and the plight of our countrymen. We just have to care with what’s happening, then maybe we can do something.
…eating. Eating makes me happy, and I eat more than most women and some men I know hehe. I cannot live without rice, and oftentimes, one cup a meal is not enough. I can eat a good burger (Brothers Burger) in Westgate in Alabang, isaw in UP Diliman, or home-cooked meal at home, anywhere as long as my stomach is full with delicious food. I like cheese and cheese-flavored food the most.
…playing. I used to be an athlete in elementary and high school, so I enjoy every chance (which is not much) I get to play basketball or to just run around with kids. I find getting sweat from sports or simply running fun. But if you name running as exercising, it’s not that happy anymore. hehe. It sounds work. Oh, and I also like playing video games.
…driving. I enjoy the adrenaline rush and/or the relaxing effect on me.
Here are seven more things about me. So what’s your seven favorite things? Go on. Do the tag. By the way, did you get all seven?
