Return to Innocence

Bright Lights .
Hysteria in the Music.
Unleashed passion,
abuse of the soul.
The confines have enclosed you,
this life you now embrace.

Look back at that Tree
you once thought majestic,
you once knew would shelter you
from the heartlessness of the Storm.

Look back at that home
that sheltered you from the rain,
the home you sought refuge from,
when you just can't go on anymore.

Look back at that window
you once used to trace your dreams with,
where raindrops slide on the outside
as your breath reveals what's written.

Hold that soft teddy again
whose fealty remains as it was
whom you treated as a private comrade
at those times when nobody seemed to care.

Look back at that road you deliberately missed.
And look now at this road that feigned happiness.
Look back at all the things you gave up
for the world's figment of the easy life.

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For my Bro

I had to rummage through the stack of books sitting on my desk trying to locate the cam’s User’s Manual. I really hated to admit that I poorly manipulated gadgets without the aid of some tacky guide, considering that all my sibs seemed to have been operating these types of gadgets since birth, and can always do without these booklets.

I was tasked to be “photographer” for my brother’s graduation rites tomorrow. I didn’t complain. I didn’t have a gift.

I suddenly remembered how “camer-o-phillic” we used to be. A year’s age gap always helped people around us to wrongly conclude that we were fraternal twins. We wore the same type of clothes (yes, I wore more boyish outfits), wore the same cool rubbershoes (ergo, no strappy sandals for me), and wore the closest looking haircut. We’d pose for mom’s prized camera (the ones that gave you poorly colored pics that would eventually turn yellowish in time) like we were some Promil kid models.

Back then, only the two of us enjoyed our toys as we were barely allowed to play outside with other kids. It was then too easy being “it” during hide and seek, and was extremely frustrating whenever we craved to play agawan base.

I felt that he was my best bud back then, and I’m wildly guessing that he felt the same for me.

It’s just too bad that we grew apart as we started getting older. We lived in the same house, but barely saw each other.

I held the digicam and started having some test shots to check on the settings I’ve painstakingly configured after around an hour.

I grinned.

If it were my brother, he could’ve done done it in a jiffy. No manuals. I’m proud to be the sister of an ECE Post-Graduate Degree Cum Laude.

I’ll make sure to take great pictures tomorrow. It might not be as perfect as when we were Promil models, but I’ll make sure that each shot whispers how much I’ve missed the first ever bestfriend I’ve had.

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My Jamster Forecast

I reluctantly sat on the auditorium’s chair as I tried to scan for familiar faces who might at least remember me. I nervously smoothed my copper-colored taffeta with my sweaty palms as I scoured the room for my much missed ex-colleagues.

A blonde and a brunette dashed their way along the aisle, flaunting their newest Chanel gowns. Adelle, the stylish blonde, and Paulsen, the fab brunette were now considered top socialites of the community. Both wore their enchanting Montassiere scent, now regarded as the finest Milan perfume, formulated by the filthy rich, James Montas.

Ladies in black were now serving scantily filled plates to every distinguished guest. It didn’t take long till I noticed that these ladies wore black uniforms with breast patches that read, “Pasimio Cruiseliners”. I also noted that the delicatessens were prepared by Chef Girlie herself, who owned a first class catering service, jointly, with co-proprietress, Cherry Love Andres. They remained best of friends through the years, I thought.

I munched on my fine meal as I waited for the program to start. The room is now beginning to get awfully crowded. Coming in were newlyweds, Precious and Jeffrey; the Yuan triplets with their dad, Jape, and mom, Van; the ever sweet Diane and Nino tagged along their four kids; and then I noticed this kid who ran the aisle with the deepest black dreadlocks I’ve ever seen. Aha! I knew it… Linda Marley married a Jamaican. But it wasn’t Ziggy. Perhaps, a relative. I forced myself not to chuckle. I also noticed that all the kids who came in wore their signature Basbash B’gosh jumpsuits, which is of course, now patented by Richelle’s clothesline.

I almost spoiled Darlene Larkins’ bright yellow gown as I twisted to my right in search of an usher who’d take away my empty plate. I apologetically smiled and allowed her to grab the seat beside me. She wore an elaborate hand-made brooch that shouted, “GUEST OF HONOR”. She was invited by Sitel owners, Mr. Benito Sy and Ms. Tata Angeles, and that Nap Darroca replaced her as Site Director for Pasig. Miss Meg, her Filipina bestfriend who remained as productive as ever, was promoted to Site Director for Baguio.

She flipped pages of a magazine while she waited, and I clandestinely checked out what she was reading. It was Time magazine’s latest edition. The cover read, Dr. Larisa Cruz, Woman of the Year. I can’t blame Time; they did a good job of finding the fittest person for that title. Doc Lari was Australia’s top psychiatrist-slash-counselor, averaging thirty patients a day, a powerhouse cast of Aussies ranting and struggling with anger management and emotional imbalance. Lari’s secret of keeping herself sane? Going to a shrink herself, Dr. Karen Agramos, who fully understands all her frustrations. Perhaps they’ll name Karen, woman of the year, next issue.

The succeeding pages showed Hollywood’s newest Asian Versace models, Blu Reyes, Ja Nabiula, Ella Lumagbas (no sign of stretch marks!!!) and Kris Rivera. They glowed like any other American model and I couldn’t believe how slim they’ve become!!!

The next pages showed 2020’s coolest gadgets. Time has it’s Philippine page which showcased the world renowned Samson D800. Samson Electronics absorbed the impoverished Samsung Company way back 2015. These cool phones are operated by the ingenious Jimian OS, replacing the inaccuracies of the old symbian OS. These Samson phones are open to either Globe or Zap, two of the country’s leading telecommunication services, where the latter is owned by Shel Zapanta herself.

I quickly looked away from the magazine as Darlene abruptly glanced my way, as if sensing my intrusion. I fixed my gaze on the creased invitation I was holding, trying to find an escape for my obvious peeping. I opened the invitation and scanned through the roster of events. A song number was to be rendered by the country’s top sopranos, Guerrero, Sarmiento and Espino. I could almost hear their melodic voices. The night’s emcees were Mike Bandola, Sitel’s HR Department Head, and Leng Yuson, now a celebrity, known to have replaced Kris Aquino’s hosting feat, when she resigned from showbusiness to take care of Josh and Baby James.

I skimmed through the program still.

Joanna Reyes is now Account Director for Jamba, replacing Benito Sy, and is rumored to have been engaged to Joey Mcclaine. Their relationship, I believe, blossomed from the time that she became Adele and Joey’s common friend.

Again, I skimmed through the lines. And I couldn’t believe what I read next…

“Opening Prayer led by Sister Ridelia Villamor, Catherinian Order”

I gasped for air as emcees Mike and Leng took the stage and welcomed the guests. Sister Dhel came in for the prayer, unbelievably donned in the whitest habit I’ve ever seen. It was a short and serene prayer that thanked Him for Jamba’s 15th Anniversary.

The emcees now introduced the speaker for the Opening Remarks. Tony Concha, Country Manager.

Tony started with a rhetoric line as my mind drifted fourteen years back. I closed my eyes and saw three coaches manning the floor, Joanna, James and Nap. Tony was just recently promoted to OM from RA back then, and Phil, Jimbo and Lari were our PS’s. And we were still carefree agents back then, who unforgettably enjoyed the time of our Jamster lives!

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The Empty Vastness

Like Odysseus will I be cursed

by the gods to stay adrift,

in the stinging coldness

of this heartless Ocean,

I sail.

Hail the gods!

For their curse is their sword

that punishes the vines

for its unruly crawl.

Hail the gods!

For they hinder my soul

to return to its world

of Dreams and of Glory.

But for what cause is this scorn?

What havoc have I done?

that lead to such exile

from the land I desire.

Aphrodite's ambrosia...

Ahh, yes... the sweet lure of the goddess,

that blindeth my cynicism,

that destroyed my defenses,

that enviled my soul.

Her phantom hath seduced me

to leave my world;

and promised eternal joy

beyond this Sea of Tears.

Stay asleep sweet princess,

stay in touch with your world.

Let the gods dwell in their power,

for you will never return.

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Time and friendship, theoretically, can be concluded as directly proportional to each other. The greater time you invest on acquaintances, the more you become their friend; and as you invest even greater time for these acquaintances-turned-friends, the more possible it is for sisterhood or brotherhood to happen.

In a world where “personal touch” seems to be in its putrid state, the gift of friendship is constantly being tested. Somehow, it is now possible for every man to think that an email justly represents the thought of a postcard; that instant messengers mimic coffee shops serving as venues for that much coveted heart-to-heart talk; and that a text message would suffice a faint representation of a much needed hug.

Personal touch adds that drama to the beauty of friendship.

But what if, just what if, you suddenly drift from the people you consider your true blue sisters? You suddenly get dragged along the madding crowd of challenge. And you seem to have stricken yourself out of the arms of sisterhood. How will you ever go back?

Having a good foundation for friendship defies the mathematical relationship of time and friendship. It makes it possible for people to still hold that relationship in their hearts despite the absence of time and the presence of distance. Estrangement has no room for a kind of sisterhood that has experienced its fullest.

Thanks Linda, Joanna, Arcie, Karen, Sharon, Dhel, Jade, Diane, [stephhh!!!! Uggh! You were my dermatitis-mate! I was sooo alone!] for your constant love and acceptance. Despite it all, it felt like I was never far from you guys. It is because of people like you that made me reshape the meaning of sisterhood, it was because of your unending comfort that made me realize how blessed I am despite the crazy things that gatecrashes my life. Thank you.

I hope that kids today start to realize that this widespread indifference we now encounter daily is partly because of the loss of personal touch. I hope our next generation experiences the gift of friendship at its fullest, the way I did.

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Surfer's Paradise No More

I’ve always believed that Zambales has been preconceived by God to be a place blessed with jaw-droppingly big waves. True enough, surfers from all walks of life have been going to and from beaches, and would always conclude that Zambales would be among the top choices for good water and big waves. Indeed, they say it’s a surfer’s paradise.

I’m not a surfer but I did encounter the finest waves in Zambales.

I was nearly burnt out from work. I was too drained, but for the sake of the stats, I still managed to convince myself to go. It also felt as if all powers have conspired to make my life completely miserable. Somehow, I felt like a paper dragged by the wind to drift away… empty and miserable.

Our team building saved me. As drama would have it, red curtains have been pulled up to offer a polished stage that would play another scene in my life. Another milestone. Slowly, the scenarios would be enacted as I recollect great memories that made a lifeless, meaningless drifting paper come to life.

Thanks JOANNA for every effort you’ve exerted to make it possible for us to have this activity. Thank you for the unending patience. But I can’t thank you for not allowing us to pull your shirt off so that we can admire whatever it is you’re hiding underneath it.

Thanks PHIL for the techy info you keep supplying our non-techy minds!

Thanks TONY for going with us, driving for us, joking around with us, and most especially for taking it OFF for us.

Thaks DHEL for your gift of speech, your tanning beauty, and for your wonderful cybershot.

Thanks ARCIE for bringing out the child in us. You’ve always been very dear and sweet to everyone. Why didn’t you wear your Osh Kosh B’gosh swimwear???

Thanks LINDA for boiling water for our breakfast. You might’ve waited for the kettle to whistle while looking at the water boiling, but still, you managed to remember that it wasn’t the type that whistles.

Thanks JARRED for staying on the shore. It was nice watching you enjoy yourself, just by being thrown onshore by big waves while flipping your legs.

Thanks KAREN for being the group translator. Because of you, we realized that manang psycho didn’t really want sopas for alms; instead, she wanted “THE VIOLET”.

Thank you SHARON for your front. And JADE for your back. Your voices as well were like mermaids singing and have encouraged us to try videoke, only to figure out that our voices’ caliber would only be at eighty.

Thank you STEPH, aka porcelain doll, for the endless pose you’ve provided our cameras.

Thank you DIANE for bringing Nino along. Am glad he agreed to stay inside your phone. *wink!*

These were the funny things that refreshed my dull and monotonous life. I’ve thanked everyone for the funny things that happened in Zambales, but I also want to thank you for the magic you’ve unknowingly given to me. Before this team building, it was so difficult to fake a cheerful aura at work when your mind is conceiving ending a miserable life. Whatever magic it was you’ve given me, my heart thanks you forever.

Work for me now isn’t a drag anymore coz I know it’s all worth it. When you know that there are people whom you can appreciate and who can appreciate you, people who can bring magic in your life, it all rubs out the misery.

I’ve written the word, misery, on the sand while we were there. Funny, that somehow, like the waves, you’ve managed to wipe it off my desperate mind. I’ll always remember that place not only as a surfer’s paradise, but my own paradise as well because of people like you.

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aMaze Me

PUMP UP THE VOLUME COZ IT HELPS!

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Neodrugs

Wondergroup Laboratories International (WLI) recently launched a succession of ten, new, over-the-counter drugs to be sold in the market by September this year. They are as follows:

Alerticillin.
Labelled as the “wake-up drug”, this immediately wipes off the idea of sleep in your cortex so you don’t have to worry about hearing your boss’ litany on why the early bird catches the worm. Comes in twenty-four different types, each catering to the exact hour you want to wake up.

Slothodium.
Feeling like the day’s work seems to be nothing but routine? This drug combats micro-lazy-organisms in the bloodstream to keep you on the go.

Visualdehyde.
To be taken an hour before meeting up with your husband/wife for that after-work dinner. This coordinates your visual association center and your eye to reflect Brad Pitt or Angelina Jolie-fantasy-date of yours. This drug is the most promising marriage saver.

Ibuprohurt.
Alleviates the aftermath of both petty and grave relationship fights. To be taken after a mouthful of chocs or a handful of fudge brownies to prevent severe gastric side-effects. Projected to be the most sought after over-the-counter drug.

Memorionalol.
Usually taken before attending huge posh parties, family and school reunions, etc. Prevents any form of embarrassment from one’s inability to recollect names of less significant acquaintances.

Strengthtomycin.
Created primarily for females hooked with asshole jocks. This increases the magnitude of a woman’s slap ‘n punch force. Strength becomes directly proportional to the quantity of drug intake. Only drug without Lethal Dosage. Contraindicated for the entire male population as it causes penile psoriasis linked with non-erection.

Phenylchronolamine.
Ever felt like you needed more time to meet that unreasonable deadline? This drug increases your stress threshold so you can do more.

Eyesine.
An eyedrop formulated for those working graveyard shifts. Allows the visual center of the brain to send nerve impulses to negate what is actually seen. Darkness is viewed as daytime, while any form of gleaming light is seen as darkness.

Trichlorosmart.
For those who find themselves fidgeting and stuttering on their first dates. Trichlorosmart also boosts your ability to make a fine impression on a date.

Eradophobia.
Eradicates your silliest fears, i.e., cockroaches, lizards, heights, tarantulas & scorps, ants, monsters ‘neath the bed, and yes… even buttons (I miss you Mozy!!!).

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theirroyalcrapness

The deafening election hype forced me to change TV channels thrice in every fifteen to twenty minutes. I now find myself contradicting my usual TV habit of sticking to one channel throughout the entire time I’m propped on the couch. This campaign frenzy now gave me an upset stomach (ever ready to throw up!) plus an excruciating migraine that I seem to have also felt three years ago.

Every ad speaks of progress, boasts of their respective achievements and of their pseudo-realistic platforms. Call me a cynic, but it’s the only appropriate character that I can transform into. How else can I reconcile myself with an ad that remembers poverty’s echoing presence only during elections? How can I bear seeing these people disguise themselves as one with the poor and at the same time, ironically spend millions for these campaign materials? How can I put up with these partisans trying to bash each other on national TV?

Well perhaps, yes, these things are necessary to win every voter’s hearts; that these things are indeed inevitable; and that these things are truly part of the Republic’s election fanfare. Well then, they have to bear with my puking cynicism until they start realizing that our dying country needs statesmen, not politicians.

I’ve been too jaded from these hero wannabees who can’t even do something about increasing the overly pathetic minimum wage. I scowl seeing them trying hard to rub elbows with the poor, surprisingly apologizing to one person for an act that happened eons ago, and I scowl all the more hearing them speak as if they are the one true hope for a better nation. I say, let them dine with Spongebob’s Mr. Krabs!

I believe it’s time for the Omnibus Election Code to approve a possible life sentence without parole for candidates with the crappiest campaign ad. Perhaps they might think twice before they run their respective ads.

And I believe it’s time for me to get that old cable subscription back.

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