I don't want to be the Grinch, but my heart is crying for the good ol' days when caroling was fun both for the carolers and their listeners. It shouldn't be, but the festive Christmas feel earlier today as I and my family prepared for noche buena and rushed wrapping gifts were dampened big by annoying carolers. Back in the day (god I feel so old), we took caroling a tad more seriously rehearsing almost every night before Christmas Eve, learning the proper tunes of classic carols we know will bite the hearts of the old. We mastered the entire Jackson Five album, learned the beautiful but relatively unpopular "O Little Town of Bethlehem", "Count Your Blessings", and "Little Christmas Tree", sway-synchronized to "Feliz Navidad", and fought off tears singing "Frosty the Snow Man" which I find really depressing. We had musical accompaniments, but on days we don't, we made sure we sounded good acapella.
It appears that today carolers only know "Sa May Bahay ang Aming Bati" and "We Wish you a Merry Christmas" (in this exact order) and then just yell out "Mamamasko po!" as soon as their two-song repertoire ends and you are still to decide how much you want to give them. Imagine listening to carolers singing these two songs more than 10 times (I lost count after) and repeatedly bombard you with begs for alms masked as caroling. They could have simply asked for money and saved their voices (and our auditory nerves) a great deal, wouldn't make a diference anyway.
***
But of course, they're children, and the season is about them after all. They couldn't have known better, especially if all they listen to is the Papaya song and the other ones about things you do with a pepper shaker (iyugyog or itaktak).
This truth hit me hard this year upon realizing a general decrease in my excitement levels on the days leading to Christmas eve. When I was younger, I'd be sleepless beginning Dec 21 onwards, anxiously hoping that when I do fall asleep I'd wake up already on Christmas day so I'd be allowed to open my gifts.
Now, all I want to do is rest and sleep all day on the 25th. I didn't see it coming but it appears my transition to adulthood has passed its first stage. I was no longer the kid who does nothing but open gifts come Christmas; I am now playing Santa to dozens of pamangkins, inaanaks, and the neigborhood children. It's not that I don't like giving; I'm just really the type who find shopping (especially for gifts) extremely stressful. I don't do well in crowds and I am impatient when choosing things to buy. I just hope having my own family is not the next game in this "as you grow old and more mature" party. Mainly because I feel so unwelcome. I'd welcome a baby boy though. I'd name him Desmond.
***
To turn things around, I decided to go with my parents to church, something I had not done in years. I was hoping to re-live a Christmas habit we did when I was younger, but I wasn't expecting I'd miss the ritual; I can still remember having imaginary heated debates with the priest and my parents every single Sunday we went to mass. But I guess, greater than the meaning we ascribe to it, the act has its own value as well. So there I was in the middle of the packed church, not listening to the sermon but happily basking in the warmth of believers, the parents who can't control their toddlers from running around, the babies who would cry like tiny banshees, and the elderly who couldn't keep themselves awake despite the havoc that the young monsters wreak around them. I can't believe I missed them all. If I could no longer be the kid who cared about nothing but his gifts, at least I can be the kid who attended Christmas eve mass with his family.
***
I hope everyone lets out the child in them even just for this one time of the year. Who knows, we all might be a little bit happier albeit nostalgic for the merrier Christmas we used to know, and stay up in the early hours of Christmas day listening to Ray Conniff and Andy Williams do the real caroling.
Monday, December 24, 2007
Monday, December 17, 2007
Choices
What does it take for the President to heed the calls of the poor for justice and a chance at a better life? Unfortunately, a cross-country walktahon.
It is welcome news that Arroyo at least made an effort to listen to the woes of the 55 Sumilao farmers who walk to Malacañang all the way from Mindanao. Whether she'll make the right decision about it is another thing, but her reception of the tired and weary farmers should boost their spirits not like the treatment they got from Agrarian Reform Secretary Nasser Pangandaman. I wish the government can finally lay the farmers' arms (or feet) down and let them rest at last.
***
Why do students wear IDs even outside their campuses? I'm sure they are very proud of their respective schools and I can get why they would want to wear shirts that declare their alma mater in big, bold font (they're still shirts after all, and school merchandise usually are made of good materials). But IDs? It's not like the MMDA will send you to the disciplinary office if you got caught not wearing it around your neck, would they? The worse are those who loop their IDs around their wrists like bracelets. Talk about tackiness.
***
Yesterday, gay Boom (gB) finally met his life partner (LP). LP sat in the front passenger seat of the UP-Katipunan jeep and it was pure cosmic drama that gB was the last passenger to board and the only seat left is the space directly behind LP. Quiet and unassuming, LP has a boyish look that makes his vulnerability and meekness palpable even to the coldest of hearts. He moved with an uncaring awkwardness, oblivious to the gazes of gB that could melt all the coins in the jeepney driver's kahera. But gB wasn't contemplating on stealing the coins and selling molten tin although there was great temptation considering the season; he was wondering how warmer and merrier Christmas would be if his gaze met LP's. The holidays after all is better spent in the company of loved ones, if not lovers.
LP wore simple clothes; a combination of faded shirt and tattered pants, and flip-flops that have seen better days. He knows it is not about what we wears but what he does, and what he makes gB feels. Not like his flashy classmates, he took the blue ID from is bag just when he was about to get off the jeep and slipped it in his pocket as he crossed the blue footbridge to the blue school in the hills.
***
Yesterday, straight Boom (sB) met the love of his life (LL), the girl he will spend the rest of his life with. She sat across him, looking dazed at first, but quickly composed herself as soon as she noticed the loving stare from in front of her. LL exudes an aura of intimadating beauty; she was in fact, so beautiful it is hard not to ask how she manages to despite the heat and the dirt and dust of public transportation. You wouldn't dare ask not out of politeness or decorum but because of the way she looks at you, how her eyes tell you that there is no answer for she is the answer herself. Assured but graceful, she appeared both unmindful and yet keenly aware of the stares she draws with her soft, transluscent skin that show the narrow veins and capillaries beneath, her hazelnut brown eyes and narrow nose. Her hair glowed with the sun behind her, a bright halo of purity and feminine charm.
She was in a familiar form with a white blouse and deep green skirt which greatly diminished her charm. She is Medusa cloaked as a student, and all the mortal men and women froze like stone as she crossed the road to her sisters.
***
The year is drawing to a close but the remaining days don't look enough time for me to thank the people who deserve mine. Let me begin though by thanking the few friends I have who stuck with me this year. I know I can be very difficult to be with, so thanks for staying with me. And while I don't say and talk much, thank you for pushing me to talk a little because it feels so damned good to have someone to talk to. I just don't know why I keep myself from people who will listen. Thanks, thanks you all.
***
A pet I would like to have for Christmas: a glow in the dark cat.
***
My brother is finally hitting the bookstores. He's included in the short fiction anthology A Different Voice of the UST Press, edited by Vicente Garcia Groyon. Pao's piece is entitled "Hang-ups", things that I better get rid of if I want to live a little happier next year, or for the rest of my life for that matter.
It is welcome news that Arroyo at least made an effort to listen to the woes of the 55 Sumilao farmers who walk to Malacañang all the way from Mindanao. Whether she'll make the right decision about it is another thing, but her reception of the tired and weary farmers should boost their spirits not like the treatment they got from Agrarian Reform Secretary Nasser Pangandaman. I wish the government can finally lay the farmers' arms (or feet) down and let them rest at last.
***
Why do students wear IDs even outside their campuses? I'm sure they are very proud of their respective schools and I can get why they would want to wear shirts that declare their alma mater in big, bold font (they're still shirts after all, and school merchandise usually are made of good materials). But IDs? It's not like the MMDA will send you to the disciplinary office if you got caught not wearing it around your neck, would they? The worse are those who loop their IDs around their wrists like bracelets. Talk about tackiness.
***
Yesterday, gay Boom (gB) finally met his life partner (LP). LP sat in the front passenger seat of the UP-Katipunan jeep and it was pure cosmic drama that gB was the last passenger to board and the only seat left is the space directly behind LP. Quiet and unassuming, LP has a boyish look that makes his vulnerability and meekness palpable even to the coldest of hearts. He moved with an uncaring awkwardness, oblivious to the gazes of gB that could melt all the coins in the jeepney driver's kahera. But gB wasn't contemplating on stealing the coins and selling molten tin although there was great temptation considering the season; he was wondering how warmer and merrier Christmas would be if his gaze met LP's. The holidays after all is better spent in the company of loved ones, if not lovers.
LP wore simple clothes; a combination of faded shirt and tattered pants, and flip-flops that have seen better days. He knows it is not about what we wears but what he does, and what he makes gB feels. Not like his flashy classmates, he took the blue ID from is bag just when he was about to get off the jeep and slipped it in his pocket as he crossed the blue footbridge to the blue school in the hills.
***
Yesterday, straight Boom (sB) met the love of his life (LL), the girl he will spend the rest of his life with. She sat across him, looking dazed at first, but quickly composed herself as soon as she noticed the loving stare from in front of her. LL exudes an aura of intimadating beauty; she was in fact, so beautiful it is hard not to ask how she manages to despite the heat and the dirt and dust of public transportation. You wouldn't dare ask not out of politeness or decorum but because of the way she looks at you, how her eyes tell you that there is no answer for she is the answer herself. Assured but graceful, she appeared both unmindful and yet keenly aware of the stares she draws with her soft, transluscent skin that show the narrow veins and capillaries beneath, her hazelnut brown eyes and narrow nose. Her hair glowed with the sun behind her, a bright halo of purity and feminine charm.
She was in a familiar form with a white blouse and deep green skirt which greatly diminished her charm. She is Medusa cloaked as a student, and all the mortal men and women froze like stone as she crossed the road to her sisters.
***
The year is drawing to a close but the remaining days don't look enough time for me to thank the people who deserve mine. Let me begin though by thanking the few friends I have who stuck with me this year. I know I can be very difficult to be with, so thanks for staying with me. And while I don't say and talk much, thank you for pushing me to talk a little because it feels so damned good to have someone to talk to. I just don't know why I keep myself from people who will listen. Thanks, thanks you all.
***
A pet I would like to have for Christmas: a glow in the dark cat.
***
My brother is finally hitting the bookstores. He's included in the short fiction anthology A Different Voice of the UST Press, edited by Vicente Garcia Groyon. Pao's piece is entitled "Hang-ups", things that I better get rid of if I want to live a little happier next year, or for the rest of my life for that matter.
Sunday, December 9, 2007
All Wet
Haha. I think its just proper that the first thing you believed to be completely right be the last thing to be proven wrong.
Monday, December 3, 2007
Mess Communication
I just saw ABS-CBN's clip showing mediamen being questioned and hauled to a bus with their plastic-handcuffed hands raised above their heads last night and I swear I could have bitten the spoon I was using during dinner in half out of sheer inis. Really, someone should tell these people that you don't wear media ID like it's Kevlar and that they too are subject to the laws, rules, and procedures of this god-forsaken land, whatever they are.
I agree with Butch Dalisay's barber. Pagtatawanan lang sila ng war correspondents sa Iraq.
If we're gonna talk about revolutions, then let's have one directed towards the Kamuning-Sgt. Esguerra area. For giving us crap like the derivative TV shows they produce, for squeezing the poor, hapless masa dry of our money with their talentless, well, "talents", for giving us newscasts like "TV Patrol" and "Saksi" and newscasters like the unbearable Korina Sanchez and the sensually offensive Mike Enriquez, for kissing their own asses when they can't even wipe it clean.
I agree with Butch Dalisay's barber. Pagtatawanan lang sila ng war correspondents sa Iraq.
If we're gonna talk about revolutions, then let's have one directed towards the Kamuning-Sgt. Esguerra area. For giving us crap like the derivative TV shows they produce, for squeezing the poor, hapless masa dry of our money with their talentless, well, "talents", for giving us newscasts like "TV Patrol" and "Saksi" and newscasters like the unbearable Korina Sanchez and the sensually offensive Mike Enriquez, for kissing their own asses when they can't even wipe it clean.
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