A Short Half-factual Half-imagined History of Love

(I thought this deserves to be posted here, not on my FB notes.)

Who you love and how you love them–just few of the things that society dictates you. The taboo of incest is natural, socially and biologically evolved. But what about the rules that govern friendships and relationships? Thirty millenia after man has first roamed earth, our relationships became as complex as our technology. A caveman for sure has no idea what Facebook is about nor what is referred to by the words fling, friends with benefits, exclusively dating, officially together, etc. It used to be just about finding a mate, reproducing, cooking mammoths for dinner and shooing off saber tooth tigers. As communities grew, marriage was invented. All its hassles came after that: divorce, polygamy, adultery. During the Middle Ages, courtly love was invented and fairytale was born. Renaissance gave birth to the greatest love story ever told–Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet. Before the Age of Facebook, your civil status can only be single, married, divorced, or widowed. Thanks to Mark Zuckerberg, we now have the “It’s complicated option.” Ask anyone what is the meaning of that, he’ll tell you it’s complicated. It’s like a which-came-first-chicken-or-egg question, you don’t get a sensible answer. Here comes the problem: more and more people are having the it’s complicated status. That is I believe the plague of this generation. When ‘Unofficially Yours’ came out, I wasn’t surprised at all. As art mirrors life, the movie depicts a usual phenomenon today.

Are we together, like together?
You mean official? No.
But why?
We don’t have to be official to love each other./We’re just friends./It’s not you, it’s me.

Rubbish. Go ahead and copulate with yourself! These new rules and way of thinking were not around during our grandparents’ time. We have made things too complex that we end up tangled in a mess. In a few decade, man will be exchanging love letters with aliens through telepathy. That will the beginning of man’s extinction. Year 3012.

One of the Boys

I haven’t done an outfit post for so long. Maybe this will do.

“

I’m still not over the boyfie jeans phenom. I get tired of skin-tight jeans. But it’s difficult to pull off. You have to feminine-ize it by sky-high heels, glam accessories and flirty top. Mine’s a sheer polka. But I can’t wear something like this all the time. In my little sleepy hometown, this is too bizarre. I get stares all the time. I mean STARES!

  top: custom-made

jeans: c/o bro

platforms: Mags

bag: Aelissa c/o cousin Ada

rings: I forgot where I got them. The striped one made of bamboo I got from Janmydee Beads

xxx

Rant-a-touille

It’s one of those days when I am not-so-deliciously tired. My morning started with a bad idea moments before I tasted my scalding hot Nescafe and ended with a heap of chaos at home. Dump more mess on me and I’ll breath fire on you. I almost did actually when my grandma tipped the trembling domino of my mood swing. No, this is not another case of PMS. I just cannot take another shot tonight or I’ll explode.

The fact that I am writing this makes me think that indeed I am an introvert. I have read an article earlier today on introverts and extroverts. I cannot quite place my self under one of the two. Typically, introverts are sensitive, silent shy-types who prefer to converse with their diaries than pour their soul into another mortal. Extroverts, on the other hand are the loud, showy center-of-crowds whom one can get to know in one sitting for they will tell you asap their life story before you solicit it from them. You see, I’m not exactly the crowd-shunner. In fact, I enjoy and bask in the gazes that I get from anyone who fancies me. Moreover, I do not have stage fright. But then again, oftentimes, I find myself alone in the library reading journals like Psychology Today and Scientific American during breaks and communing with myself through writing in the middle of the night. A lot of times, I find my write-ups too personal that I do not publish them on my blog. I hate censoring myself. I refuse to edit. This is my way of seeing a glimpse of my thought process–examining my unedited write-ups. So am I an introvert or extrovert?

Enough said. Next!

So this afternoon, I wanted to browse some newspaper in the library and pretend to be some cultured lady when the stupidity that is spelled M-S-U got into my way. There I was with my ID and library card entering the majestic shabbiness of the Main Library when a betel-nut chewing man stopped me on my tracks demanding to see my library card and ID. I could almost smell that rusty thingy in his mouth that is close to dripping. Gross. I failed to notice, but the man noticed, that my library card is not valid anymore and I have to go to whoever is tasked to do the validating which is really just having the library card be stamped and signed by hopefully not another betelnut-chewing-flip-flops-wearing relative of the president of MSU who cannot find a job anywhere and was charitably given a slot in the university payroll. Alright, fiiiiiiiine. I’ll have my library card validated. Ooops! I haven’t brought my COR. Forget those effin’ Inquirers and Philippine Stars. I found myself waving sayonara to my beloved old, creaky library.

My beloved library. Where else can you find a library with scary librarians, God-knows-where-they-came-from ID and card checkers, and bacteria-breeding-ground CR? Where?

This is becoming gross. I should shut up and stop ranting. Sleep Aye. Sleep. But pray first.

Reflections on the Pavement

 

I have been walking 20 minutes now; I am growing warm under my denim button-down shirt and faux leather bomber jacket. I have been clutching my navy heavy linen skirt to keep it from grazing the wet pavement. It’s been raining since daybreak, the sky is as gloomy as my eyes, heavy as the headache hanging on my temples. I’m passing through the crowded streets of Bo. Paypay, Banggolo and Perez. It is rush hour now, people are starting to go home, and others are hurriedly culminating whatever transaction they have for the day. In a sleepy little city like Marawi, the day ends at sunset. Nothing follows.

 This is my city. But today it is alienating me like a friend turned foe over a petty argument. It is familiar yet foreign. I see the same face in every one I look at, but a second look tells me that I am mistaken. Desperation boils beneath my frozen skin. Pallor conceals a blush. There is that face I long to see. There is that car that I pray will pass me by. Every grey SUV jolts me into alertness, only to drain my hope down the sink when I realize it is not an Adventure. My composure slowly melting away as my coiffure begins to go wild in the wind and rain. I am losing it. Something unfamiliar is stinging in the corner of my eye. How long has it been since the last time I went home raining with my eyes blurred by a film of unguarded emotions? The reflections on the pavement are beautiful. There is beauty even in the harshness of urbanization, on the peeling asphalt and haphazard cable wires on the posts, and in the mad colors of print ads hanging on every wall.

These reflections are blurry, as blurry as the line of demarcation between good and bad. The pavement is grey of different shades, like society’s patchwork of morals and values. One cannot be truly white as a Grecian building façade and truly be black as a vinyl record. Grey everywhere.  I wonder if I can make a grey slightly whiter by whitewashing. If I try to make it right, will it become truly white? Or will the white paint peel away under the beating of the sun and the bite of the night’s chill?

            I am nearing home now. My thoughts are drifting in and out of his passenger seat. That perfect moment stolen away by a slight mistake. I am cursing under my breath, wishing it lasted longer if it was really the last. One more bite of isaw, one more sip of Coke, one more punch line, and I won’t any longer crave for more. I can let the fog of that afternoon cloak us in oblivion. Or let him take me away with seatbelts left unused. We’ll be chasing the sunset for days and bungee-jumping from the moon. We’ll be walking on fire and taming lions. We’ll build a dream that will put the Tower of Babel to shame and mass murder conventions in a way harsher than the Holocaust. We’ll be rolling on the pure sands of a virgin island and dancing on the dune during a sand storm. And yes I want that too, consummating a vow of endless love under the cover of humid summer skies.

            I can see the maroon gate of our house now. I felt a spasm in my chest, the day is rushing towards its end but still not a trace of that face was seen. Pain gets hopelessly more painful with the knowledge that the cure is out of sight and out of reach. For the twenty-third day in a row, I’d be curling myself up under the covers, nursing a tender wound with thickening itchy crust, stifling sobs with a pillow.

            I’m closing the gate. One can almost see credits rolling wondering why it ended without a closure.

Dear reader: I am sorry for the melancholy overkill. I am a woman with bad PMS.

On Meranao Songs

Just a quick post.

I surprised a couple of young k-pop-and-emo-loving girls who asked me what my favorite song is when I said it is a Meranao song. I got wild stares and jaw-drops. Hey, it’s not that bad. Why do I listen to Meranao songs? Below answers the question.

 

10 Personalities Who Made a Mark in My 2011

In no particular order…

Ramona Bautista

I’ll sure remember her as that woman who survived a murder scene untouched and did not call 911 to help her brother and his gf who was shot. Either she wants them to die or she is the moron-est person in the world.

Karla Deras

(photo from karlascloset.blogspot.com)

Karla Deras is the fashion blogger I religiously follow. She’s my modern Audrey Hepburn.

Najib Zacaria

Winner of the Film Development Council of the Philippines Sineng Pambansa Lanao del Sur Short Film Competition, and now a finalist in the FDCP National Film Competition, this talented young filmmaker is making waves in the filmmaking scene. You are making as proud Pogs.

Raymond Lee

How can he not make into this list when he went all the way to Marawi to give a screenwriting workshop for us cinephiles at the same time producing the much-loved indie film Zombadings?

Coco Martin

Call me Jologs, I don’t care. Whenever I see this dude on the boobtube, I want to swoon. His performance in Noy hammered the last nail on the coffin.

Anne Curtis

The only reason I watch Showtime is to see what Anne Curtis is wearing. Undeniably, 2011 is her year with a top-grossing film, platinum album, and a million twitter followers under her belt.

Tickee Lao

TOSP. First elected female SSG president in Mindanao State University-Main Campus. Young leader. Pretty face. Absolute cuteness. What more can I say? She blogs too. Check her out in http://snhlao.tumblr.com/

Jinkee Pacquiao

This woman reinvented herself. We saw her transformation from a camera-shy wife of a boxer to a celebrity on her own rights without us being warned. How did she do that?

Steve Jobs

He changed the world with the touch screen. The world of gadgets was revolutionized by this visionary. However, his death left a black hole. Who else can think of sci-fi like gadgets and actually work to make them into a possibility?

Last but not the least…

Muammar Gaddafi

Another great man, at least for me. One thing, I do not believe that he is as bad as CNN portrays him to be. Enough said.

*******

Here’s a vid I made… a New Year message.

Fins Douces et Commencements

The curtains are being lowered for the year 2011 and the backstage people are busy preparing the prima donna of the next performance. 2012 is at the wings now slowly taking center stage.

I feel like the luckiest girl this New Year for I had a chance to be with my uber awesome friends as the year closed to an end and the New Year burst into the scene.

December 31, 2011.

1pm.

Rhatsuos Capade in MSU.

The Power Team of the CNSM-Integrated Quizzers Club—Ahmad Mocsir Domado, Saidameer Lucman Said, and yours truly—got together. I never have mentioned them in my blog before so they somehow need a decent introduction. Here we go.

When I fought my biggest battles in the quizzers’ world, these two were my teammates. They are quiz prodigies, no surprise that we won champ in all of the quiz shows we competed in, with the exception of SLAAP Intercollegiate Quiz where we brought home the second place trophy. However, I claim that we were the champ in that quiz if the panelist did not reject our answer Divine Comedy and accepted our competitors’ answer THE Divine Comedy. I mean, come on, the exact title of that great work of literature which is in Italian is Divina Comedia, not La Divina Comedia, thus the exact English translation is Divine Comedy as stated in the encyclopedia I have on my bookshelf. Pardon me, I just can’t forget that one loss we had.

I have known Amad and Ced since we were kids, like since elementary. My earliest memory of Amad is that we were the school’s representatives to a spelling bee contest when we were in grade three. And all throughout our elementary years, we were sort of in a competition with each other in getting higher grades. He’s a brain to be reckoned with. Ced on the other hand is the late bloomer. Never on the top of the class, he surprised us all when suddenly he propelled himself up up there during high school. However, we were in different schools then. I was in DCFI, they were in MSU-ISED-SHS. We got together again in college for we all were in the biology department.

Technically, I wasn’t exactly friends, as in friends in the most biblical sense of the word, with them. Things took a hundred and eighty turn when we became teammates in IQC. We were bonded by our frequent bouts and mock quizzes, actual quiz shows, and victory lunches/dinners. I saw them in different light while we were in the battle field. I couldn’t help but admire them realizing how brilliant Amad and Ced really are, how courageous, understanding, and supportive. Amad was always abreast with pop culture, Ced with current events. Amad was the stellar debater, Ced the robust student leader. We won every single quiz show that whenever we register for the next one, other quizzers would half-jokingly suggest that we don’t join at all because they would not have any chance to win at all if we join too.

Now, my two intelligent friends have gone far. After graduating with flying colors and remembered as the best Student Council president of CNSM, Ced is now a med student in MSU-COM and is at the top of his class. Amad graduated with flying colors too, awarded as one of the Ten Outstanding Students of the Philippines, and now studies medicine too in UERMMC. How lucky really I am to be good friends with these two smart, sexy and successful young men. I mean, who else can spend an afternoon with them being showered by good words and inspirational messages? Deym! I totally got the message clearly; they do not want me hibernating. They want to see me up there too. My confidence is so revved up when Ced told me that he believes I can do just about anything I want while Amad nodded in affirmation.

What a perfect way to spend the last day of the year, to be with people who are not only my friends but also personalities I admire and respect so much. Lucky Me. Ced, Amad, thanks. Sa uulitin.

January 1, 2012.

12pm.

Kollete’s Diner in Bangon.

I spent the first day of the year with my best girlfriend Johaira Macasundig—kabarkada for a decade. I’m just so happy to be with her on that day, symbolic of a year of deepening friendship. Earlier that day, I woke up very early to jog with my Mamang and do some yoga for the core. And then invited Jo to accompany me find vials for my thesis. Funny thing that happened that day is that we wanted to dine in Starhouse Café, but it was closed. We hopped to Alkawthar but it was closed too, along with all other diners along the Gomisa Ave. That’s why we ended up in Kolette’s Diner.

It was a lovely day. When you are with someone so dear to you, nothing else bothers you, not even the fact that every resto you went to was closed. Just hanging out with Jo, being so loose and laid-back, made me euphoric that I wanted to thank Allah for giving me everything. Lucky me.

January 2, 2012.

2pm.

Alkawthar.

Just before the classes resumed, I had a chance to be with my bestie Rashid Pandi in my favoritest place in town—Alkawthar—where I get my favoritest food—shawarma. Former consultant in Al-Khwarizmi International College, Rashid is now pursuing law in University of San Carlos, so I don’t get the opportunity to hang out with him and enjoy shawarma anytime I want like how we used to when he was still based in town. As usual, my energy is through the roof as we chattered about so many things we want to talk about while he was away. I get all so giddy like a little girl inside a candy store. My best friend is like that—he gets one excited about everything. When he starts his pep talk, it’s like as if I swallowed Darna’s stone and in a snap, I can accomplish anything. I feel that powerful. Suddenly I transform into an Upper East Sider, and witty remarks, wittier than Blair Wardorf’s, spill out of my mouth. I find it funny sometimes. My best friend always and never fails to bring the best out of me. Again, lucky me.

As I am punching the last few words of this post, I can’t help but get all excited for what’s in store for this year. What makes it more exciting is the knowledge that I have the wonderfullest friends who I can count on whenever I am feeling less perky. The truth is they say things to me that are too sweet and too good I can’t post them here. (lol) I doubt that I even deserve those words. Come on guys, you are overrating me! But thank you anyway, you know I need those. Here’s to a year of triumphs for all of us!