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Tuesday, May 24, 2011

Moving On

After losing my mother, after losing a lover, after losing my innocence, after losing a dream, after losing hope... I've realized that it's never an easy or pretty process moving on.

It feels like sometimes you need a hundred thousand years and that you're fighting a hundred million men. But the harsh truth is that moving on may take an entire lifetime and you're only fighting with yourself. Sometimes you win but more often you lose.

It's hard but it's necessary in a life filled with loneliness, grief and despair if only to find that one true place where bliss lies.

Good luck to us all.

Wednesday, January 26, 2011

MY WORLD AND ALL THE REST

Monday morning, I wake up to the sound of our neighbor’s motorcycle engine roaring.

It is seven in the morning and I still long to get some more sleep after staying up late to work on my thesis. It has been a long pressuring week of reading, researching, analyzing, taking down notes and creating a comprehensive written output for my Communication Research 2 class.

I try to muffle the sound of the annoying roaring motorcycle engine with a pillow stuffed on my head. But to my dismay, it did not work. The noise just irritated me further. “OH SHUT UP! People are still trying to sleep!” I exclaimed.

Perhaps, they did not hear me…

Perhaps, they were heating the engine for an important reason and that they could not be trifled with a neighbor’s complaint…

Perhaps, they just did not care…

I grunted and got out of bed. I turned on the television and saw yet again the devastating flooding in Brisbane, Australia – homes, schools, churches, business areas – everywhere was flooded. You could see people rowing small boats to salvage what they can from their ruined properties buried in the overwhelming depths of the water. Reports of thievery from grocery stores have been announced. Disgruntled families were appealing for assistance. The whole situation made me wonder, “How will these families rebuild their lives? What will happen to those who had nothing to begin with?”

The catastrophic images had in some way drove me to push the next button to change the channel. I do not like waking up to bad news.

Although it might not seem as tragic as the scene in Brisbane, the continuous discussion of corruption and injustice in the Philippine political and justice system without any resolution is a heartache that the entire Filipino populace bears. It is an exhausted topic but this was, however, the content of all the local news channels. It is a topic discussed every day, every hour…. The word “corrupt” has been so common in the past two decades, that even the uneducated understands its meaning. It is perhaps one of the most commonly used English words by Filipinos. And the result of such knowledge and commonality to the word is apathy. People have grown tired of the endless revelation of corruption, its endless discussion and the lack of action to resolve the problem; and I am not adverse to this exhaustion.

Changing the channel again, I find stories of serial arson, wars, child abuse, child pornography, battered women, drugs and mass murder. I turn off the television to spare myself from the morbidity of the world and try to find some entertainment through the internet.

I talk to my friend Hugo who is a young digital artist living in Portugal and he sends me a link to a news about the United Nation’s decision, based on a vote, to eliminate sexual orientation from anti-execution measures. Apparently, the majority of the member countries voted that it is perfectly okay to isolate and execute, if they see fit, the lesbians, gays, bisexuals and transsexuals (LGBT). Another structural violence – bigotry has succeeded in dominating the world.

I sigh at the saddening truth of world violence. Then I turn off the laptop and proceeded to my daily habit of visiting my nephew’s room to give him a good-morning kiss. For a long time now, it has been the only solace in my life- the only quiet moment filled with serenity and hope that today might better because his innocent smile says it so.

My father who was watching a documentary about Trinidad and Tobago at that same time, suddenly called out for me just to burst out his racist comments about my ex-boyfriend who was an African-American, ‘they look like gorillas” “OH my God! He’s thick lips would have sucked your lips off if you had kissed”. All I could do was slam my hands to my face and drag it down to the floor. But, I admit in all honesty that he was not at all good-looking. In fact he was downright ugly. It never bothered me though, for I loved him even with his shortcomings. But my father always had a way with stating his opinions about such matters and rubbing it to their faces. To him, ugly is ugly – nothing more, but everything less. And I’ve often wondered, will his racism and disdain for ugliness be another source of conflict between us when he finds out that I am yet again and more than ever in love with another black man. What if we ended up together and have an ugly baby, will he turn his head away from us?

All the simple and minute ideals, habits and biases we may have; and the actions controlled or uncontrolled, foreseen and unforeseen that has inflicted damage on a wide variety of people are but a conglomeration of both physical and structural violence in this world existing from the personal, family, group and to the entirety of our society.

With all the wondering I have already done, perhaps the biggest wonder of all is if peace is truly possible.

Peacemakers are said to possess seven attributes: compassion, conscientization, constructiveness, conciliation, communion, commitment and contemplation. These qualities however, in my opinion, are rare and can hardly be found altogether in an individual. And being human nature as it is – selfish and conceited – concerned only of his own benefits and his own pain, how can peace be attained?

If I ask myself if I am capable of being a peacemaker in the idealistic sense of the word, my answer would be a resounding no.

If I were asked if I believe that true peace – both negative and positive peace can be obtained, I would answer with my brows raised and say “the achievement of true peace would stem from the elimination of structural violence which is the cause of physical violence. How do we eliminate corruption, bigotry and poverty among others when their roots are strongly embedded in one’s culture and history? Only the answer and the implementation of that answer to that question can bring forth the desired peace that we all aspire for.”

And so for now, I’ll continue waking up in the morning living day by day watching my world and all the rest move about in violence and chaos in hope of an improbable peace.

Wednesday, October 6, 2010

My Pain

As my left arm painfully type the letters unto my keyboard and my right hand stroking the other from time to time, I sit here on a rocking chair in my favorite café thinking of nothingness and desperately wishing to grow numb.

My father and I have a very rocky relationship. We are very different from one another despite our physical likeness and our common stubborn attitude. But everything else seems to be a clear division of black and white. I love to read and he does not. I have a passion for language and the arts and he can barely speak proper English. He is an Education Math Supervisor whilst I find Math to be tedious and boring. He loves being surrounded with people and attaining powerful positions whilst I like the company of only a few and have no interest in power. He lacks empathy while I can easily put myself in the shoes of others; and it is because of this that he is capable of doing the cruelest and relentless acts to other people.

And being his only child have not spared me from the suffering much physical and mental agony from him. Do I deserve it? Perhaps, depending on where you stand on how a parent should react on their children as disappointments.

Yes, to my father I am not nothing more than a humiliation—a great big disappointment who has caused him much to be ashamed of because as he keeps repeating to other people, "Rhoda went crazy when her mom died that's why she threw away her scholarship and quit college for a while." Am I proud of what I have done? No. But do I regret it? Certainly not! I may not have the brightest future ahead of me now but I am sure that it is a future where I will find my happiness—the happiness that he does not comprehend or wish to comprehend.

I should be used to it now— the sprained arm, the bashed head, the taste of my own blood and the broken heart… It's nothing new. But as I caress my injured hand, I can't help but let tears swell up and fall from my eyes—my heart is injured too. I close my eyes and hope that these excruciating pangs would stop. How can a father continue to hurt his only daughter—the only family that he has left?

But truth be told, what pains me the most is the feeling that I am all alone because the person that should be supporting me, caring for me and loving me continually and without remorse bruised my body and soul.

Monday, September 27, 2010

The New Filipino: An Agent of Change

The Filipino is a proud race— with our long lasting traditions, our captivating culture and our rich history deeply embedded in the fearsome blood flowing through our veins. Our dark eyes, hair and complexion--- beauty without comparison; our brilliant literary and mathematical minds— intelligence beyond compare; and our artistry—talent of great potential, this is the Filipino.

The Filipino have constantly faced adversity from the establishment of civilizations on the seashores and the riversides— battling against nature for survival, to the coming of the Spanish conquistadors and our enslavement for three hundred thirty three years, to the irrevocable rape of freedom by the Japanese armies, to the defilement of our lands by American nuclear waste and to the deprivation of basic human rights and liberty during former president Ferdinand Marcos’ regime. The Filipino had stood up against these adversities, constantly fighting for what is just and moral. The Katipunan and the EDSA Revolution, to name a few, are testimonies to the Filipino greatness.

However, this fire within us had been slowly dying out. The Filipino was getting tired, perhaps, of the corruption and poverty that have stricken and promulgated Philippine society, thinking that nothing is going to change and that our doom is imminent. Depravity in the government, bribery and brutality of police officers, envelope journalism… The Filipino stealing from the Filipino! It is truly disheartening.

Apathy, indifference and cynicism were starting to reign over the Filipino hearts, until the yellow flag was hoisted and Benigno Aquino III became president of the Philippine Republic. With the rise of a new president, of a new government rises the new Filipino. Still armed with the same beauty, intelligence and talent that were never diminished through the intricate and arduous course of our history; but this time, the new Filipino brimming with hope is prepared to face the evils that have dominated our society and demands for the future that we deserve. We can vividly see the active participation of citizens to eliminate debauchery and decadence. Ordinary citizens through the use of telecommunications and broadcast journalism give light to the problems of exploitation, venality, perversion, violence, fraud and degeneracy. The new Filipino is speaking and crying louder than ever for justice and righteousness. And it is this voice, which can no longer be ignored, that is moving our country forward – shaping the Filipino future.

The Right Words for You


I have never found it difficult to find the words to express how I feel.

They might not always be the right words—the perfect words all the time

But the words truly come from my heart.

But I am certain, without any doubt and hesitation that this is true…



When you look at me, your gaze make me fidget

Fixing my hair, my dress, my posture

Wondering what you see…

To you, am I pretty?


When I stare at your photograph, my hand stretches to reach for you

I long to caress your face, touch your lips

Wanting to feel your warmth

Do you want to feel me too?


When I hear your deep voice, I close my eyes and smile

“My Vivi…”you would utter so sweetly

Yes, I am yours today, tomorrow and forever my boo

I hope you belong to me too.


Miles of excruciating emptiness

Without your touch…

Without feeling your breath under my skin…

Without you beside me…

I can take all that and more


Because…


Only you

Make my knees weak just by thinking of your smile

Only you

Can break down my walls and make me weep in sweet sorrow

Only you

Can make my heart melt like butter on a hot pan


Because…

These are the right words—the perfects words

You are you, my boo

And I love you.