A sinner’s journal entry

Note to readers: This short story is fiction. It includes 20 titles of the 24 books I read in 2014 (as of Christmas day) in an aim to veer away from the usual year end round-ups that I do since 2012.  

Your past does not define your future. This is what father always tells me when I confess my sins in our parish at least once a week. Father frequently advises me to say 7 Our Father’s, 7 Hail Mary’s, and 7 Glory Be’s to repent and he also says that I should strive to remain as dry as I can and forget my previous self; treat it as a buried child.

It is never easy to confess your sins to a priest, you know, especially when you can see through the sketchy window a figure of a pleasantly looking man who I bet, in his younger years, was a certified heartthrob. Anyway, the Catholic Church says that I should confess my sins as often as I can and so as a faithful and obedient servant, I try to keep my values in check (*wink). After my first encounter with father, I can’t help but think of him night and day – he was on my mind for tatlong gabi, tatlong araw. Imagine?

I tried to resist the urge but, what the heck, I want to add confession in my weekly to-do list! I want to familiarize myself with our parish and its people, including his eminence (*wink again) and so I go and call each of our night ‘the session.’  

I am not an innately sinful child but I try to commit and collect sins whenever I can just so my lock out period with father will be longer. I tell him about how I’ve been a bossypants in the office because my officemates are incompetent and how I wish that like me, they can also talk pretty one day. I admit how I hate people obsessed with labels and how I say mean things about them. Honestly, why do they have to prefer between being straight versus being not? on being professional versus being part of the BPO? on being geeks versus jocks? I also tell father that I hate my siblings for being hard core gluttons. I stock food in our fridge so all of us have something to eat but every time I open it, I am like, “Who moved my fucking cheese?” Most of the foods are gone and my siblings will retreat to their rooms or pretend to do something else. I don’t know father, I say, we never run out of food but for them it’s always like the hunger games?!

Those are just some of the sins I add to the story because I want to cherish my cleansing time with father, and you know what the funny thing is, he always, always, sends the impression that he loves to hear my stories. One time I entered the confession room and I saw his side view silhouette, but the moment I started speaking, he turned to me directly! My knees trembled at the outline of his physique, his well defined jawline, the shadow of his smile, that broad shoulder, his youthful hair, and not to mention the scent – oh gosh – his breezy scent cuts through the netted frame! His presence in that semi-lit room brings me to another place and another time. I feel like I can do unbelievable stuff like what? Climbing up the pyramids! Surfing through rice terraces! Or salmon fishing in the Yemen! Wild stuff!

Each night as I end my confession, I wait for him to speak, and when he does it’s like the first phone call from heaven! His breath in itself works wonders – it makes me want to sin again.

But father knows whom he is committed to. He plays his role so well and when he tells me what to do: boring stuff like being patient and understanding of my officemates, taking care of and dressing my family in corduroy and denim, and suggesting I go through each day guided by the words, eat, pray, love so I don’t end up catching fire in hell; you know what, I just look at him and tell myself, “Say what you want father, but I’m just gonna stare at your obscured charm and come back shortly after.”

I’m sorry father but you make the mockingjay in me chirp endlessly until I get your attention. You, father, are the President Snow to my Katniss Everdeen!

I find an empty seat after each session, careful not to sit beside weirdos who choke and cry while praying, and make the sign of the cross – in the name of the Father, the son and the holy spirit – Father, forgive me for I have sinned. I keep on questioning why you made him a priest while he can very well be mine. Seeing him (through the netted frame and the sepia room light) tells me that sinning can be rewarding sometimes. I know this remains a call of desperation, Father. Whenever I see him fixing his collar and that white suffocating thing at the center, I am reminded that whatever I am keeping for him is wrong. I know, Father, I know, this stupid is forever even if I call on a miracle worker.

XoXo,

Alice (born Alden Prince Marcos)

P.S. In case this journal got lost and someone picks it up and reads my entries, please burn after reading. I know I am living a shameful life, and is using an embarrassing alias.

* I also read ABANGAN: The Best of Philippine Komiks 2014, Alice invents a game and Alice always wins, and Virgin Labfest Anthology volume 2 but I can’t include them in this short story. I bet you know why. Ang hirap kaya!

The books:

1. Your past does not define your future - Bo Sanchez / Self Help, Memoir

2. Dry - Augusten Burroughs / Memoir

3. Buried child - Sam Shepard / Play

4. Tatlong gabi, tatlong araw - Eros Atalia / Novel

5. The Session - Aaron Petrovich / Short Story

6. Bossypants - Tina Fey / Autobiography, Memoir

7. Me talk pretty one day - David Sedaris / Essays

8. Geeks vs. jocks - Jessica Zafra / Essays

9. Who moved my cheese? - Dr. Spencer Johnson / Short story

10-12. The hunger games trilogy - Suzanne Collins / Novel

13. The funny thing is - Ellen Degeneres / Essays

14. Salmon fishing in the Yemen - Paul Torday / Novel

15. The first phone call from heaven - Mitch Albom / Novel

16. Dress your family in corduroy and denim - David Sedaris / Essays

17. Eat, pray, love - Elizabeth Gilbert / Memoir

18. Stupid is forever - Sen. Miriam Defensor Santiago / Collections of speeches and jokes

19. The miracle worker - William Gibson / Play

20. Burn after reading - Joel and Ethan Coen / Screenplay

21. ABANGAN: The Best of Philippine Komiks 2014 - Various Filipino comics artists / Anthology

22. Virgin Labfest anthology volume 2 - Various Filipino playwrights / Anthology

23. Alice invents a game and Alice always wins - Nick Flynn / Play
24. May day eve and other stories - Nick Joaquin / Short stories

Thoughts of a Theater Student

This year, I enrolled in PETA (Philippine Educational Theater Association) Workshop Weekends to enhance my talents, or potentials, in theatrical production and performing arts. 

My first course was Theater Arts 1 which ran from July to September. In it, we learned the fundamentals of theater arts and the elements of performance. We also had classes in improvisation, music, voice, movements, among others. 

That's me on the lower right - a pregnant man giving birth

Overwhelmed with my previous experience, I enrolled in the Basic Acting course which currently runs from October to December. This course exposes us to the rudiments of acting as it painstakingly breaks down our preconceived ideas of the discipline. 

AMEN!

More than learning the technicalities of these courses, I was surprised to learn valuable life lessons as I go through them:

1. Break your routine. This is our class mantra for Theater Arts 1 and the theme for our class showcase. Every week we share the new things we tried, new food we ate, new people we met, and even new directions we took going to and from work and school. It opened us to the possibilities and realities that we ignore, or are not yet exposed to, since we are overwhelmed with our daily 'priorities.' As a training artist, I learned that one should embrace the newness in life, and now whenever things don't go as planned, I easily surrender and say, "Oh well, why not?" 

Try it! You'll be surprised at how life beautifully moves on when there is always something new.

2. Open your senses. When we started in our Basic Acting class, we would wonder why we spend an hour or two just walking around the studio and mindlessly noticing all things surrounding us. Our facilitators encourage us to open all our senses (sight, taste, hearing, touch, and smell) and use them to react to stimuli. The sense of sight is the most deceiving sense of man and as artists, we have to consciously open up all our senses to experience a thing, place, or person in all its form and being. 

3. Respond to stimuli; Go back to your primal roots. We were encouraged to walk around the studio and respond to anything and everything that elicits a reaction. We were encouraged to observe, feel, and be one with the space (within and outside our reach), the decor (from the obvious ones to the tiniest details in a fabric), the furniture (functional or not), the structure (enclosing us and outside of us), the sound (in our room, on the other room, outside of the building, produced by men and machine alike), and with our classmates (the noises we make, and the reactions we create)

Classic example: Give a child a paper and what do you think he will do? He will shake, tear, fold, eat, spit, color, write on, and crumple it. After exhausting all possibilities with the paper, the child gets bored, throws it away, and moves on to another stimulus that ignites his interest, and the process of discovery just goes on and on.

This example is related to my next learning: 

4. Don't think, just do. The creative and rational parts of the brain don't go well together in theater. One of the most common pitfalls of actors is thinking of how to do a particular exercise. We were discouraged from analyzing an exercise because the thinking process can be paralyzing. It prevents us from doing the exercise genuinely because we get concerned the performance may not go as planned. Analysis results to paralysis while spontaneity enhances creativity. It is really hard to process each instruction from our facilitators, but that is the point and the challenge of the course - to not process but experience it instead.

5. There are no wrong moves in theater, only learning curves. Whenever our facilitators ask for volunteers, we mentally leave the studio and pretend we didn't hear the invitation. It is hard doing the things you believe are correct in front of the class and be criticized that your motives and actions didn't transpire naturally. It becomes more challenging when you try to revise your actions and you get the same comments. 

Surprisingly, a friend and I realized that the more confused we get from doing the exercise, the more fulfilled we become at the end of the day. Because again, doing is learning in theater. Besides, our facilitators expect to see us make mistakes and they are there to address them. 

Honorable Mentions

6. Eat slowly. This is related to my second point. Ask yourself: When was the last time you ate a meal slowly? 

When eating, I try to listen to the sound of the utensils against my plate, with each other, on my mouth, against my food; taste each food on my plate, chew them slowly and feel their texture, appreciate their differences and what emotions they bring; observe how my plate empties as the hour passes by; and more. 

7. Walk (or when commuting, embrace traffic). Traffic doesn't bother me much now because I have learned to embrace the noise, the sound of car horns, impatient commuters, panhandlers, my sweat, my seatmates' sweaty underarm, my watch and handkerchief, and my tardiness record in the office. Theater reminded me to be in the now, be open to things I cannot change, and take the situation as it is, and see the beauty in it.

8. Don't forget to breathe properly. Tension, anxiety, and even excitement take away our chance to breathe properly. Our facilitators always stress that proper breathing (inhale through the nose, expand the stomach and don't raise the shoulders, and exhale through the mouth) is an essential skill of an actor. Having adequate air supply is crucial to the success of an actor's performance.

And even if you take out all the theater stuff I said, proper breathing lets you live well.

When I enrolled in PETA, I thought that I will learn the science and technicalities of theater and performing arts. I did and I still do. What I cherish most are the lessons that I know I can apply outside theater, in a place called real world.

My Theater Arts 1 family with our facilitators, Ate J-Mee and Kuya RB

My Basic Acting family with our mentors, Kuya Eric and Kuya Raffy

Papa don’t preach (I’ve been losing sleep)

Note to readers: This article was published in Philippine Daily Inquirer's Young Blood column in September 2, 2014. You can read the edited version on this link: http://opinion.inquirer.net/78073/papa-dont-preach

I believe in God. I attend mass every week, I serve in our charismatic community and I believe Someone higher is responsible for my ups and I, for my downs.

***

Imagine you are inside a jeepney and you see an acquaintance about to board the same ride. Instantly you say “shit!,” a word manifesting both horror and crisis. You pretend to sleep but deep inside you start to pray “Lord, please no. Don’t let us be on the same ride, at least not today.”

Does this situation sound familiar to you? Me, yes. I did exactly the same thing last Thursday morning...because the last time I didn’t, I suffered.

***

My previous week was like hell, not because of my workload but due to lack of adequate rest. It was only on a Tuesday when I had a good sleep and felt excited to work on Wednesday. Then my day’s little surprise appeared in a man – a friend of a friend, looking mid-30s and by all means, just another person I know prima face who happens to be working in Makati as well.

I thought it would be an ordinary day off to work but I was wrong. While we were bound for Buendia via FX, he asked me what my religion is and where do I go to church. I told him I attend the Feast PICC under the leadership of Bro. Bo Sanchez. He said he knows the congregation and he attends the one adjacent to us, Day by Day Christian Church by Pastor Ed Lapiz, held at the Folk Arts Theater. It was a pleasant surprise so I managed a little smile and continued staring in the distance, thinking of what the day holds for me at work and back at home.

I was never keen on knowing more about this man not because he is uninteresting or I am judgmental, but because people just don’t do that in the morning. (Honestly though, he seemed a little uninteresting and I am partly judgmental). Commuters belonging to the workforce are never cheerful in the morning. Show me one and I bet it’s his first day at work – we’ll monitor this person days after.

Without asking my permission, this man started introducing me to his church; what they do and what they advocate for. He earned a portion of my elusive attention when he said he has been to The Feast PICC a couple of times and he knows Bro. Bo. He then recalled how he came to know God back in high school and how he cried when he found out the true meaning of accepting Jesus as your Lord and personal Savior. He also reminded me that no matter how hard we try, we can never be perfectly deserving of His love, hence we are awarded with grace. He even recalled how Adam and Eve ate the forbidden fruit despite God’s command and what it meant when He punished these two for their disobedience.

He lost me with his high school salvation story. I didn’t respond to his biblical bullet points. When I sensed he will not stop anytime soon, I only gave nods without looking at him in the eyes. When I talk to a person without looking point blank, there are serious problems with the conversation.

I thought he would sense my indifference to the topic. “Not on a Wednesday morning, please,” I kept telling myself. I was holding my patience and fervently hoping he saw my distorted, inattentive face, but all I had was hope. What good is that to stop a man from recounting his 20-year ‘I am changed’ story?

He sat beside me in our next ride bound for Pasong Tamo ‘para daw magkarinigan kami’ (so we can hear each other). Goodness! This man didn’t realize there was no conversation happening, only a preaching session! A one-way communication (if you can call it communication at all!)

He also shared how as humans we should repent on our sins in preparation for the second coming of Christ. Yes, he told me that we were already in the Book of Revelations as we were lining up for our last jeepney ride bound for Ayala Avenue. At 23, I admit I don’t read the Bible yet, but I am very (very, very) aware that the Revelations is the last book in it, and a very lengthy sharing such as his can be overwhelming (I’d like to use and abuse the word ‘very’ in this paragraph but I know you already get my point). 

He said there will come a time when believers of God will be saved (and disappear) from this world while the non-believers will be put to a test so they can also be saved, and if they resist, they will suffer worse. He also mentioned our departed beloved rising up and going somewhere (I don’t know how to continue the story; I was busy switching glances at the stressed passersby and the congested Makati corners).  

Meanwhile, I found the next part of the conversation interesting enough so I looked at him for a millisecond: he said there will be a golden city (2,000 km x 2,000 km) where believers will go to – a place where only peace and happiness reign. He even asked me to search it on YouTube – I forgot the term the moment he requested I look it up on the net. I think it’s called the Golden City – please look it up for me.

He even sent me a recording of Pastor Ed’s preaching. Pakinggan ko raw para ma-inspire ako at ma-inform. (I should listen to it to be inspired and be informed). Oh dear, this man and what he’s asking me to do is unbelievable! Before we part he requested me to also share my faith – the good word – with other people. We all know where this is going: I nodded while thinking, “No way! I will never force someone to listen to me unless he expresses interest on the topic, most especially if it’s about faith and religion.” 

I felt sorry for this man because he was genuinely enjoying what he was doing. I can tell he is a good son of God, a proud one even, for preaching for more than an hour. However I was not prepared for his word or His words that morning. If I want to listen to God’s word on a particular moment, I’d play my Bo Sanchez recordings and silently pray after. But I didn’t that morning. I don’t on most mornings.

His non-stop spiritual monologue was more than what my restless, sensitive mind and body can process. At one point I felt guilty for not cutting him short while we were still in the FX, thus preventing him to be the subject of my next blog. But can you blame me for giving him the benefit of the doubt? I thought that at his age and experience, he would know when people are listening and when they are not. I am a regular church goer and I strongly believe Someone higher is in control of my life. But reiterating that without my consent is way too insensitive. It’s sad he didn’t realize what he was doing was actually unattractive. If unsolicited preaching can turn the faithful ones off, imagine what negative impression it will cause to nonbelievers, atheists, naturalists, existentialists, or however you call those who don’t entertain the presence of the Divine?  

His intention was good but the execution was worse, and he was not aware of it.

I admire that he remains proud of his beliefs. However I strongly believe that sharing faith becomes successful when two people, the sharer and the listener, cooperate. After all, what good is there in storytelling if the narrator doesn’t have an audience? And what’s the use of the Good Word if you set your audience in a bad mood?

And my morning’s remembrance - one of my most awkward epiphanies yet: while he was introducing God to me, I was also calling on the same God to make him stop.

ABANGAN: The Best Philippine Komiks 2014

I read this book for two reasons: I support creators of stories written in short form – artists who commit to direct storytelling without sacrificing content and emotion; and I always wish I can live through the days when kids hold Komiks and not tablets.

It is for these reasons that I had the newest Komiks book in town, ABANGAN: The Best Philippine Komiks 2014. It is a worthy collection of the best* Filipino modern Komiks as adjudged by four experienced Komiks editors.

* I cannot justify why they are the best in the country because I haven’t read all Komiks in circulation. Also, I’m sure there are a lot of other artists whose works remain in notebooks because they lack the opportunity and connections. To support my claim, even the editors noted that “almost all of the Komikeros included are from Metro Manila, and that majority of them are hetero-normative males.”

Going straight to the point, I wish to extend my praises to the standouts in this collection:

The Populars. The inclusion of Budjette Tan and Kajo Balidismo’s TRESE: THIRTEEN STATIONS in this collection is not a surprise for me. The story shares how Alexandra Trese chased a clan of Aswang (ghosts) that is responsible for a series of murder which happened in various MRT stations. The creators mixed Filipino mythology (Aswang, and goddess of death – their version of “Kamatayan”) with socio-political narrative – a combination I’m sure would appeal to readers who are either looking for mere entertainment or a good case study in literature/sociology courses. This story will never go outdated because of its formula and I also won’t forget it because it’s the same story included in the short-story collection “Manila Noir.”

(To Tan and Balidismo, I hope you’d be kind enough to share a different excerpt in another collection next time. Thanks!)

Meanwhile, Paolo Fabregas’ FILIPINO HEROES LEAGUE VOLUME 2 is another pleasant treat. Fabregas successfully modernized the retelling of Martial Law for younger readers who probably don’t have any idea why they don’t have classes a day in February and August each year. He also represented the masang Pilipino through fictional superheroes as they save the country from authoritarianism. If Fabregas continues doing this amid all the political events that change Philippine bureaucracy, I’m sure he won’t run out of stories to tell and Komiks to publish. Good for you, man! Please continue killing the Barong Lords and making heroes out of commoners.

Legitimately Good Reads. One of the main challenges Komiks face is relevance for the digital, younger readers. (In local context, hirap silang lumaban sa mga katulad ng “Diary ng Panget,” “She’s Dating the Gangster,” and a whole shelf of PSICOM young adult novels from Wattpad).

Having said that, my favorite in the collection is Russell Molina and Ian Sta. Maria’s SIXTY-SIX. Here’s why: As the title suggests, the Komiks features a 66 year old man who takes care of his wife who is suffering from dementia (or amnesia), and communicates with his unica hija who is working abroad. Later on it was revealed that the man is actually living alone and still has issues with her partner’s accidental death. Molina and Sta. Maria didn’t seem to be bothered by the problem I just mentioned above. They just approached storytelling anew using old characters in an old medium which for me is genuinely brave and artistic.

In addition, Emiliana Kampilan’s DEAD BALAGTAS seems like the funnier version of Lourd de Veyra’s “History” on TV 5. Kampilan bastardizes our history and heroes in each of her strips. For Kampilan, the Japanese army killed Doraemon and Nobita when they travelled back to the Philippines in 1942, Jose Rizal replaced Doña Teodoro’s eyes with electrocuting goggles, and the US government failed to bribe Melchora Aquino with a McDonald’s happy meal. I don’t care if these are not true; I just support Kampilan’s fearless versions of our history and I wish my history teachers entertained me that much as well.

Meanwhile, Carlorozy’ DARWIN’S ASSOCIATION OF DELICIOUS EVILNESS brings us inside a child’s mind as he struggles to play his role as a student and his aspiration to be a superhero. Add to the complexity of his story is an everyday encounter with school bullies and his attempt to being badass like them. Darwin is hero and villain combined; his mind is violent, complex, and miserable but his evilness effortlessly solicits frequent laughs-out-loud.

Short, Sweet Selections. Noel Pascual and AJ Bernardo’s CRIME FIGHTING CALL CENTER AGENTS contains few dialogues but highly entertains as well. Just try to imagine what a simple handshake means when a former call center agent passes through his teammates and they introduce him to their new supervisor – akward! Egos reach the universe as the characters stare at each other while gripping the other’s hand. Truly an epic meet up!

Meanwhile, JB Palabon’s PUSO NEGRO is also one of the funniest selections in ABANGAN as it shares how one tactless man can endanger innocent civilians. In three pages, Palabon invites readers to sit in the middle of his jeepney and watch as the passengers experience crazy turn of events. Palabon’s story will surely capture a lot of Pinoy readers especially those who has, in one way or another, had an unpleasant jeepney ride.

Rob Cham and Petra Magno’s SPOOKY TALES OF THE HERE AND NOW presents the problems of millennials who are heavily reliant on social media. I thank Cham and Magno for visualizing some of my pet peeves online. On another hand, While Rob Cham and Auti Nones didn’t create the strips in COMICS, they did a fine job of selecting the funnier sounding punch lines in stories from Garfield, Archie, Casey, Kelvin and Snobbes, and Fancy.

Reading ABANGAN is a pleasant break from my usual novel-memoir-essays book selection. I enjoyed the experience of reading a book made of Komiks by Filipino writers who are not yet in the mainstream scene (except for Manix Abrera and the makers of the first two I mentioned above). I will continue to support them and I hope I can be exposed to more local Komiks in the future.

Just to mention, my father, an artist by his own credentials, would always light up when sharing his childhood stories spent with Komiks. He used to trade Komiks with his friends, and they also read them together in the UTMT (under the mango tree). I know that Komiks has influenced my father’s artistry and for that alone, I think I owe this medium some sense of gratitude. I know that I have to pick it up from the shelf and let strangers know that Komiks still exist.

Komiks are the “memes“ of the past, only a lot entertaining, socially relevant, and sensibly humorous.

That’s it for now. Thank you for reading. In the meantime, I have to turn my attention to the next books on my reading list and as the title goes – aABANGAN ko nalang ang 2015 collection.

If There's a Will, There's a Wave

When 2014 opened, I promised myself that it will be a year of travel, exploration and discovery - or revisiting old people, places and experiences. 

Summer is fast-approaching and with that, I thought I needed to try a new water sports. Surfing came as an instant solution as some of my EON mates are also into the activity. Without hesitation, I joined an intimate trip to Baler, Aurora, which is currently making louder waves as a go-to surfing destination in the country.

One day stay. Three one-hour surfing sessions. Five people. Plenty of instructors, fall and lessons. 

Here are some of my learnings while battling with the tides of Baler:

That Awesome Moment When You Can See and Hear the Waves on Your Feet 

Paddle Out: Always keep moving forward. Never cease to go further whether the waves are calm or disruptive . Stretch those arms and paddle out left and right. My surfing instructor would consistently coach from behind, "paddle lang kuya, paddle ka..." especially during high tides and it was really effective. Instead of panicking, facing the waves through paddling prevented me from damage -- I was not slapped hard nor wiped out. 

Choose the Right Waves: Not all waves can help you learn surfing. Ironically, the bigger and harder-hitting waves are the ones that will train you to be strong, fearless, and determined to complete one long ride. And when you ride the right wave and reach the shore, you just want to face bigger waves even more!

Not All Waves are Scary: True enough. There were a number of times I felt as if I was in a deep part of the sea but when I paddled, I was able to touch the sea floor. It may seem funny but when your stomach is full from a buffet lunch and you only had ten minutes of nap, little waves can really come across as frightening.

Never Let Go of Your Board: For non-swimmers like me, the best and only advice to remember is that no matter what happens, never let go of your board. That foam or fiber is your best friend above and below sea level. It is the medium that brings you to a faraway place and gets you back to where you came from. Your surfboard gives you a magic carpet ride, but it involves a lot of skinny-dipping, humping, and positioning (and I am talking only to people who rode a surfboard before).

Instructors are Inevitable: Have you ever known someone who has inspired you despite their age, status, gender, race, etc.? Well, I found one brave young man in Baler who at the age of 14, was my source of confidence in the sea. Yes, my instructor was way younger than I am, yet he paddled when
my arms were weak, he pushed my board so I can stand and ride even if he was swallowed by the angry tides, and he was always on red alert when I am acting like a child. Shanlee is a very inspiring man. He, alongside other surf instructors in Freedom Surf School, were among the bravest, happiest, and kindest groups of young men I met. 

If not for instructors like the Freedom Boys, people in the Metro who may have the money but are not stress-free, can never have enjoyed such an exciting water activity.

Pain is part of the Game: I am currently recovering from bruises and cuts in my legs, coupled with over-worked arms and chest. Surprisingly, I never thought of quitting surfing. I like what it does to my body and I know that pain is all part of the learning process. And as consolation, I just take these as reminders that I once did something new and felt really good about it.

Stand Up... Just Stand Up: Fall numerous times if you cannot help it, but the golden rule of surfing is to stand up - just stand up. By standing on the surfboard, one can learn how a ride can take away so much worry and anxiety. Again, there may be more times when you will fall, but as long as you stand up -- knees shaking, arms and chest hurting -- no ride will ever go wasted.

A Long Training Fuels a Long Ride: I had three one-hour sessions within my 24-hour stay in Baler. My first session in surfing was the most memorable because of the surprise and satisfaction that my first complete ride gave me. I have to tell you though that it was during low-tide. During my second try, the tide was crazily high and the sea seemed like a giant washing machine, bleaching everything that comes inside it including people. And because of inadequate exercise and rest, I was also dissatisfied with my third and farewell session. 

Looking back on the rides I could have completed and from observing the surfers who braved the tides alone, I realized that surfing is not an overnight success story. To efficiently ride a wave is like spending years in the seminary, sleepless nights drawing blueprints and sketches, and training to write or draw from childhood -- it requires repetition, discipline, commitment and a goal.

It's Okay to Fall, Just Don't Drown: In surfing, every fall is equivalent to a brave attempt. People may overlook it, but sometimes effort weighs heavier than results. It's okay to fall. After all, you're stepping on water, not on concrete. However, it is equally important to fight every fall and don't drown yourself with fear of falling again. Enjoy the moment. Feel the water. Cooperate with nature. Cliche as it may sounds, but take every ride as if it's your last.

That Leash that Binds You and Your Board, Creates Wonders: As long as I can remember, I was never unafraid of water. I was always on the safe side of the pool, the usual walker in the sea. And like children, I am conscious of what's beneath my feet in the brownish sea floor. But while surfing I learned to trust the medium that will keep me safe and floating - the leash. It prevented me from a number of drowning incidents especially during the high-tide session (when I can't touch the seabed) and it was my top-of-mind every time I fall. To reiterate, the leash that binds me and my board is responsible for so much happiness and carelessness I felt while surfing.

After a Long Day of Surfing, Don't Forget to Play Carelessly with the Sea: Few minutes after our third session, I realized that I have not yet plunged into the sea for the longest time. So before I leave Baler, I thought that I should experience it bare - this time thinking only about me, the water, and how grateful I am to experience such pleasure. I could have avoided this tanned face, neck and shoulders had I not swam after surfing, but who cares? It was the best exfoliation my body has undergone in years. And boy, it was refreshing!

Promise Yourself to go back to Your Surf School for a Better Experience: My epiphany before leaving Baler: I missed it already! A lot of thoughts, wishful thinking and images entered my mind that compelled me to go back in Baler as soon as possible. In the end, I promised myself to return and train harder, be braver, and be more accommodating to unfriendly, loud waves. 

I know that in time I can be adept in surfing.   

Just a thought: if you can change every word 'surfing/ surf" with "life" in this post, how would you have seen the activity then? Would you think of it as exciting or boring? For me, I went to Baler only to surf; fortunately I got back in Manila to ponder on the wonders of this thing called.....

Tara, friends. Surf tayo! Mamatay tayong fresh!

The First Morning. The Breakfast that is Masarap na, Sobrang Tagal pa

This is it. The First Session (when I performed my best)

 Lucky Five: Chance Passengers and My Seat was Totally Uncomfortable

My Mom knows a LOVE STORY

It is a quiet Saturday afternoon inside our house today. I am reading, my siblings are attending to their digital concerns, my mom is ironing our clothes while our neighbor is playing 96.3 Easy Rock FM on loud speakers.

I have to go to inside a room because while the music is good, it distracts me from reading a (nonetheless) self-help book. With the unexpected playing of some songs, my mom quips, "bata pa ako nung sumikat yang kantang 'yan," and "alam mo pinanuod pa namin ni Papa mo sa sine yung pelikula niyan, yang yung theme song. Sa Cubao pa yun e." 

Each of us continues with our different worlds until my mother felt nostalgic in one song: Endless Love, a duet by Diana Ross and Lionel Richie. She starts recalling...

(not in her exact words)

Alam niyo mayroon akong kaklase noong first year college
Bata pa lang siya, sila na nung boyfriend niya noon. Mag-first love sila. First boyfriend na yun
Tapos 'yan yung theme song nila. Tuwing tumutugtog yan, kumakanta sila, sumasayaw sila
Lahat kami kinikilig. Ang sweet sweet nila
Tapos isang araw, yung boyfriend niya, nagpunta ng Navotas sa bahay nila
Nahold-up, eh nanlaban yata, napatay
Tapos yung kaklase ko, sobrang nalungkot siya na umabot sa hindi na siya nakapag-aral
Gabi-gabi nandun kami sa burol ng boyfriend niya. Iyak kami nang iyak kasi iyak siya ng iyak
Facetowel ang dadalhin mo dahil hagulgol ka sa kanya
Tapos araw-araw hinahanap namin siya, hindi siya makita sa bahay nila
Nandun pala siya sa sementeryo, sa puntod ng boyfriend niya
Minsan dinadala na lang namin siya ng pagkain

Tuwing naririnig ko yung kantang yan, yung kaklase kong yun yung naaalala ko
Asan na kaya yun. Hindi ko nga alam kung nakapagtapos ng pag-aaral yun
Ang alam ko nag-aral siya after ng ilang taon. Pinilit na lang yata siya ng pamilya niya nun
Pero siya ayaw niya na talaga
Sabi lumipat na daw sila sa Cavite
Hindi ko rin alam kung nakapang-asawa pa siya
Ano na kaya nangyari doon

Kaya tuwing naririnig ko talaga yang kantang yan, yung Endless Love
Hindi ko mapigilang maiyak
Naaalala ko sila, ang sweet sweet nila
Tapos namatay yung lalaki. Kawawa naman yung kaklase ko.
Hindi ko talaga mapigilang umiyak tuwing naririnig ko yung kantang yan



My mother grabbed me and my sister's attention with her monologue. She occasionally stopped from ironing and wiped her tears with a towel. 

We can't help but think of where is that woman now? That girlfriend who still went to the cemetery everyday after her boyfriend's interment. That young lady who traded her studies to experience the pain and chose to live with it. She must be one blessed woman right now because of her guardian angel. A man so young, promising, loyal and sweet who looks up to her from heaven thinking, "I'm so sorry to leave early. But I thank God for your loyalty."

To the people reading this, if you cannot recall the lyrics of Endless Love, you need not Google it anymore. The way my mother recounted that love story is better than singing the song entirely.

Wow. What a way to spend Saturday afternoon. 

It's way past 5 P.M. now. I am done reading the book, my mother is also done with the ironing while our neighbor has turned off the radio. Within minutes, another story was born and I could not have been happier.

Staring at the Wall

Tuesday Night. I talked to one person I know from way back and the conversation we had helped me move on with a lot of issues I held on to since November. I though I did fine during our talk. However, from Wednesday to Friday, I felt heavy deep inside and I only had one word for it: stress. 

I will not go into details on what we talked about. It was good. But something about the conversation made me rethink the state I am currently in. And then I felt that our talk was just the 'icing on the cake.' I realized that the reason we conversed is because soon enough, I would have to revisit an old fear and an ancient quest.  

Friday Lunch time. Stress and disorientation got the best of me and as a cure, I went to the bookstore and bought my first self-help book from Bro. Bo Sanchez entitled "Your Past Does Not Define Your Future." I read it in the bus while travelling home and I was deeply touched with some of the messages and anecdotes in the book. 

Mind you, I have always wanted to read it since college but I didn't have the courage to pick it up and place it on the cashier. I always told myself, "may perfect timing ang pagbabasa ko niyan." And last night was 'that' time.

I admire how Bro. Bo opened up about his addictions -- his struggles with sex, pornography, masturbation, and more importantly, finding and revaluing himself. I believe that to some extent, all of us can relate to what he has gone through, maybe not with sex and lust but with addiction itself. I, for one, am undergoing through a lot recently and I thank him for reminding me that there is indeed hope and rescue that is always available for us, courtesy of God. 

Too much holiness and godliness now. If you would let me continue, I'd like to share with you a part of the book:

CHAPTER 10: UNTIL YOU GET HEALED (my short version)

There was a woman in a mental facility and she was violent, helpless even. Everyone including her doctors have given up on her and she was left secluded in her room and always staring at the wall. 

Everyone quit on her, except one person.

The janitor in the hospital has always wanted to help her and see if there is still a means to cater her recovery. What he did was after his duty, he would go inside the woman's room, his own chair by the hand, sit parallel with the woman and stare at the wall with her for 30 silent minutes. 

Years have passed and this routine continued. One day, the janitor sat beside the woman, as usual, and surprisingly, the woman started talking and it evolved into conversations. Eventually the woman was released from the mental hospital fully recovered.

And why was she healed? Because there was one man who through his actions, told the woman, "Listen lady, I'm going to stay here beside you. I'm never going to leave you. I'll sit here with you until you get healed."


I wish all of us would get to meet our own version of that janitor someday. But as Bro. Bo put it, and I totally agree, that janitor is God. He will never leave us. He will sit beside us, year on year, until we get healed from whatever it is that has been causing us pain.


In general, I am not a fan of reading self-help books because they tell of a story of one person's triumph and his recommendations which are not applicable for everyone. And when I do, which is seldom, I see to it that even from judging it by the cover, it is a worthwhile read. With this book, I wasn't wrong.  

Believe that your past does not define your future. 

And as I continue on with life, I hope I can walk focused now and avoid more of that Tuesday night in the coming days. 

(Photo not mine)